


104 Words for 104 Days

by cresselia8themoon



Category: Phineas and Ferb
Genre: But since those are the major ones they get priority, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Humor, Just assume any PnF character is fair game, cuteness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 26,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22261948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresselia8themoon/pseuds/cresselia8themoon
Summary: Whether it's inventing, having fun, busting, thwarting, or evildoing, nothing's gonna stop the cast from having a great summer! Well, not every story is gonna be set in summer but you get the idea. Life in the Tri-State Area will never have a dull moment.
Comments: 75
Kudos: 64





	1. Recruit

**Author's Note:**

> I decided that I wanted to just write a bunch of short ficlets/oneshots of varying length for Phineas and Ferb. I made a New Year’s resolution to actually finish a story and I’m gonna do my best to keep it even when school starts up again. 
> 
> For this collection, I decided to just set a random word generator to come up with 5 words, and I’d pick from the list provided.

Carl sprinted to Monogram’s office, a stack of flyers in hand. With so many agents preferring to beat up mad scientists for their pay, OWCA was running low on office workers. It had taken 72 hours of sweat, tears, coffee, and screaming at his editing software, but he’d finally managed to design a recruitment poster that would hopefully attract possible candidates.

And since he did a good job on it, that meant he was one step closer to promotion! And once he got promoted to paid intern, he could reform OWCA, move up on the corporate ladder, fill the top positions with squirrels, and get Monogram to adopt him and disown Monty as his son!

“Sir! I did it!” Carl screeched, throwing the door open to Monogram’s office. “Recruitment rates will go through the roof now!”

“IT WAS FREDDY GOLDBERG’S IDEA!” Monogram screamed, jerking awake and almost spilling his coffee in the process. His eyes flicked to Carl, and he heaved a sigh. “I, uh, I’m not myself this morning. Apparently we ran out of specialty coffee beans and they expect me to put up with decaf. They expect a man of my position to drink decaf? I didn’t go through years of…the Academy-“ he paused, allowing dramatic music of no discernible source to play, “-deal with several repressed daddy issues, and work my way to major just to be told I have to put up with decaf! Carl, didn’t you buy more coffee beans before this crisis started?”

“Nope!” Carl exclaimed, shoving the stack of flyers at his boss. “I was working on recruitment posters! I like to think they’re pretty good!”

Monogram gingerly lifted the top paper off the stack, then edged his chair away from Carl. “Have you slept at all?” he asked suspiciously. “You seem a little…cuckoo.”

Just outside his office, Agent Chloe the Cuckoo squawked indignantly.

“Only when I crashed, sir!” Carl grinned. Not even Monogram’s sharp tongue could faze him now! “But then I picked myself up and created these babies! No animal will be able to resist the subliminal messaging!”

“You know using propaganda is counterproductive to our status as good guys, right?” Monogram asked.

“Don’t care! I’m gonna make more! And then I’ll hang them up for all the city to see! And then you’ll adopt me as your son and I’ll have a bunch of trusted squirrel advisors! Who’ll be paid generously in nuts! Ahahahhahaha!” Carl giggled maniacally as he skipped away.

Slightly fearing for his life, Monogram activated the intercom. “Attention, agents. Unpaid intern has lost his marbles. Please use safety protocol 12 when handling him. I repeat, unpaid intern has lost his marbles. And on a more important note, the first agent to grab me a coffee that isn’t decaf gets two weeks of vacation.”

There was an instant stampede of fur, feathers, and scales. 

Monogram took a closer look at the recruitment flyer, then grimaced and dumped it in the shredding bin.

He wouldn’t have OK’d those flyers even if Carl hadn’t been suffering from lack of sleep. He didn’t know much about advertising, but he was pretty sure the acronym “TAXIDERMY” would drive anyone away.


	2. Seasonal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting two chapters on the first day because A03 won't let me name the first chapter without the second one.

Since S’Fall and S’Winter were huge hits with their friends, Phineas and Ferb had created an enormous Easter egg filled with the joys of spring for the day’s project. It took a grueling thirty second montage, but soon they were ready to have fun.

“I think sprummer has a nice ring to it,” Phineas declared. 

Buford crossed his arms. “Nah, Suspring sounds way better. Sprummer sounds like you’re completely bummed out.”

“This is a tough one,” Baljeet admitted. “I would prefer following the naming patterns of S’Fall and S’Winter, but since spring and summer start with the same letter, S’Spring wouldn’t flow off the tongue too well.”

“What about Sumring?” Isabella suggested.

Baljeet snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! S’Vernal! We’ll just name it the other word for spring!”

“Too nerdy,” Buford muttered.

“What do you think, Ferb?” Phineas asked, ignoring Baljeet’s passionate argument on the appropriate use of apostrophes in the name of the project.

Ferb blinked. “The cherry blossom room is nice.”

“You made a room full of cherry blossoms,” Isabella murmured dreamily, her eyes staring at something nobody else could see.

“And we lost her,” Buford sighed as he tucked Isabella under one arm and headed for the elevator that would take them to the top of the egg.

“Yeah, we can go to the festival together!” Isabella exclaimed.

“Time to eat our body weight in chocolate and marshmallows,” Phineas grinned, running after Buford and Isabella, leaving Ferb and Baljeet behind.

“You guys mind walking faster than a snail?” Buford shouted. “Isabella’s trying to run away on a centaur again!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real reason they didn't make something called S'Spring: cause it would be really awkward to say and the fact that spring is just a pinker summer.


	3. Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a ficlet, but Stacy’s dialogue just ran away with me. This fic takes place after Tales of the Resistance, so Doofenshmirtz is no longer in jail.

Candace Flynn dedicated her life to order and justice. She protected her brothers from the nefarious schemes of the Doofenshmirtz family. She led a group of rebels, knew seventy-five ways to disarm Normbots, and served as a beacon of hope in the chaos of dystopian Danville.

And now here she was, willingly breaking several laws of physics in order to satisfy her own selfish whims.

Since it took an enormous amount of power to travel counterclockwise between dimensions, Isabella and the Firestorm Girls could only perform three reconnaissance missions into the Prime Dimension, but the information they brought back was invaluable.

“We’ve scoped out prime counterpart Candace Gertrude Flynn. She’s in the sophomore class at Danville High School,” Isabella reported. “Associates include prime counterparts Stacy Hirano, Jenny Brown, and Jeremy Johnson.

“Don’t use my middle name under any capacity, Isabella,” Candace commanded as she tugged on a denim jacket.

It felt restricting, but it was necessary. Her normal outfit would be considered a violation of the dress code, and she needed to blend in while talking to the other Candace.

“Of course, Commander,” Isabella replied coolly. “Recon suggests catching Prime Candace between 1:30 and 2:00 pm. She typically excuses herself from class in Room 217 and goes to the large window at the end of the second floor corridor to watch the nearby elementary school for her brothers’ activity. Her associates don’t accompany her on these outings.”

“Good,” Candace said. She glanced in a nearby mirror, making sure the black dye completely covered any sign of her natural hair color. Dyeing hair was something she couldn’t do under Doofenshmirtz’s reign. She’d been meaning to experiment with different colors in her minimal spare time.

“Be careful,” Isabella cautioned.

“I won’t compromise anything except the power grid,” Candace replied.

Five minutes later, Baljeet finished the usual safety checks and opened the portal, which opened in the middle of an empty girl’s bathroom.

Buford and Baljeet let out high-pitched shrieks and dove under the desk.

Candace rolled her eyes. Those two were the perfect brains and brawn team, and Candace had witnessed them tear apart a Normbots factory with nothing but a paperclip and a yardstick, but they couldn’t handle the sight of a girl’s bathroom.

“Isabella and Gretchen. Since those two are…temporarily indisposed…can I trust you to man the controls in the meantime?” Candace asked as she stepped through the portal.

Isabella and Gretchen nodded, the portal fizzling out just as the door opened. Candace immediately dropped into a crouch, regretting that she’d left her bo staff behind.

The newcomer wore a bright blue blouse with a matching skirt, so unlike the dull gray and black outfits of Candace’s home dimension. Candace’s finely-tuned senses screamed at the unnaturalness of this world.

Thanks to the recon team, Candace already knew the girl was another version of Stacy Hirano. Horror slowly dawned Stacy’s face, and she let out a shriek. “Do you have any idea how dirty those floors are? Have you never been inside a high school restroom before?”

Candace never felt the need to step foot inside the rebuilt high school, but she didn’t entertain that with a reply. She stood up, quickly rinsing her hands in a nearby sink.

“Trust me, you don’t want germs all over your denim jacket. It’s cute in a 90s-early 2000s teen way,” Stacy explained as she stopped in front of a restroom stall. Instead of going in, she took out a sharpened pencil and examined the stall door. “Ugh, Mandy’s dating Carlos again. This is the third time they’ve gotten back together this month! When’s that girl gonna learn?”

She scrawled a message under a large pink heart with C + J in the middle of it.

Candace felt her cheeks heat up. Her counterpart had no subtlety whatsoever.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before,” Stacy commented, finishing her message. “What’s your name?”

“Don’t you have class or somewhere to be?” Candace deflected.

Stacy shrugged. “Free period.”

“Fine. It’s…Gertrude,” Candace cursed inwardly, wondering why that was the first thing that popped in her head. A whole sea of false names she could’ve given, and it had to be her embarrassing middle name!

“Gertrude?” Stacy gave her an appraising look. “Funny. The only person I’ve known with that name is Candace.”

Candace grimaced when Stacy circled her, inspecting her disguise more closely. Maybe she’d banked on Stacy’s ditziness a little too much.

“Wait a sec, I know that neck!” Stacy gasped. “Candace, seriously! You really think I wouldn’t recognize my BFF? Though I don’t know if that hair dye is working out for you. I always thought you’d be better off with brown highlights.”

“It’s a disguise,” Candace said, in the most no-nonsense tone she could muster. “I’m from a different dimension. I didn’t get to do whatever normal teenagers do because I was too busy with the Resistance.”

Stacy blinked. “Resistance? Like against a dictator?”

Candace kept her mouth shut, deciding she’d better not give more information that wasn’t pertinent to her mission.

“So you’re like the YA version of Candace?”

Candace gave her a blank look.

Stacy shrugged. “You know, YA? Young adult genre where a clumsy teenage girl leads a ragtag group of misfits against a dystopian government and angsts about a love triangle with her childhood bestie and a mysterious bad boy she doesn’t know very well?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Candace said. “All books except badly written autobiographies about the dictator were banned.”

Stacy grimaced. “Sheesh. That stinks. Not even a fashion magazine?”

Candace shrugged. “No, but that’s life. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go ask my counterpart about her Jeremy Johnson.”

“Probably not the best idea,” Stacy said. “If my Candace figured out you were another version of her, she’d blame her brothers and drag you off to her mom. Then you’ll disappear or get transported elsewhere. You don’t want that.”

“Her mom makes people disappear?” Candace asked, wondering how her recon team could’ve possibly missed that detail.

Stacy shrugged. “Not her mom, really. More like random green laser beams from the sky. They always happen when Candace tries to bust her brothers. But hey, I’d be more than happy to share what I know. Candace and I were best friends since elementary school. I promise I won’t tell her about you.”

The Stacy Hirano of Candace’s dimension usually coordinated supplies between Resistance bases. She didn’t lead from the front like Candace. They cooperated when necessary, but they weren’t nearly as close as these versions of Candace and Stacy.

“You will answer all questions to the best of your ability,” Candace said.

“You don’t need to treat this like an interrogation. Relax a little,” Stacy sighed. “Oh, who am I kidding? You wouldn’t be Candace Flynn if you were relaxed.”

“Alright, Hirano. First question. Why is your Jeremy attracted to Candace?”

Stacy scuffed the tile with her shoe, as if she hadn’t been expecting the question. Well, she should’ve known what she was getting into. “Starting with the loaded topic, huh? Sorry, I was expecting you to ask me about how they met or what they like or something simple like that.”

“I’m not moving to the next question until you answer.”

“Fine. I guess Jeremy likes her determination. Candace hasn’t succeeded in busting her brothers yet, but she’s always willing to try another method. She doesn’t let anything stop her either.”

Determination. Like how she’d been determined to overthrow Doofenshmirtz to create a world where her brothers could grow up peacefully and not have to give up their childhood whims.

“And he doesn’t mind her busting her brothers?”

The Doofenshmirtz family was still out there somewhere. What if they attacked while she was with Jeremy and neglecting her duties? Would Jeremy mind if she rushed off to thwart them?

“She’s always leaving in the middle of dates for busting purposes,” Stacy shrugged. “Jeremy’s pretty chill about it, as far as I know. He knows how much Phineas and Ferb mean to her. They even helped him cheat at a dance competition so he could impress her. Personally I found it a little freaky, but I guess love is a little blind to that sort of thing.”

Candace wasn’t sure about introducing Jeremy to Phineas and Ferb though. It was a big risk if Jeremy ever got captured. But at the same time, she could potentially entrust her brothers to someone else in an emergency. Isabella was a good lieutenant, but Jeremy had years of experience on her.

“Candace crushed on Jeremy since seventh grade. It took a lot of time and courage for her to take the next step,” Stacy said. “With a lot of pushing from me.”

“So you think I just need to have some courage and talk to him?” Candace asked. “Then what was the point of diverting the city’s power to open a portal and spy on you people to catch my counterpart at a good time?”

Suddenly her plan seemed ridiculous in hindsight. And she thought she was pretty good at planning missions.

To her credit, Stacy didn’t seem fazed about Candace spying on her. “I’ve read enough YA novels to know overthrowing dictators is easy for teenage girls. Boys are a different story. And it figures you wouldn’t do the simple thing and make a ridiculously complicated plan instead.”

“You got me there,” Candace admitted.

“So how’s the fashion in your dimension?” Stacy asked, switching topics so abruptly that Candace was caught off guard.

But only for a moment. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun. Candace began describing Dooferalls, much to Stacy’s growing horror.

Stacy was so revolted she ducked into a bathroom stall and begged Candace not to say anymore. Candace couldn’t help but laugh, even as the portal to her dimension reopened.

Realizing Isabella and the Firestorm Girls were staring, Candace quickly schooled her expression into her usual look of indifference. “Thank you for your help,” Candace said over her shoulder. “I have to go now. Remember to keep this a secret.”

“YOU BURDENED ME WITH THE KNOWLEDGE OF DOOFERALLS!” Stacy screeched back.

The portal closed.

“Baljeet, dismantle the portal tech,” Candace ordered. “Our recon missions into that dimension are finished.”

“Did you find the other Candace?” Isabella asked.

“Not exactly. I talked to Stacy Hirano though. She gave some good advice,” Candace admitted. “Isabella, can I leave you to run a patrol around downtown tomorrow? I want to meet with Jeremy at the park.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed.

“Excellent,” Candace said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

She dialed Jeremy’s number, feeling more confidence in leading a normal life than ever before.


	4. Hobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa and Heinz’s relationship is one of my favorite parent-child relationships in cartoons.

Lacey’s mom crocheted birds and sold them on the Internet. Nate’s dad collected foreign and rare coins. Paula’s aunt was a triviamaster in romance literature.

Those were all normal hobbies. Ones that didn’t end in setting things on fire, going to prison, and stealing random things around the city because they were attached to a bad memory.

But Vanessa’s dad was the only one who embraced evil as a hobby.

In her childhood, he blew things up in the basement and tried to improve household appliances to varying results. That could be considered a hobby.

After he divorced and moved to the penthouse, it soon grew into a lifestyle. On alternating weekends, Vanessa often found herself next to a giant machine he called an “inator” and encouraged to inconvenience the lives of unsuspecting civilians.

When she wasn’t visiting her dad, she focused on her social life. She took to punk culture like a fish to water, dressing in black, listening to heavy metal, decorating her bedrooms in elegant blacks and purples.

Since everyone else had complaints about their own parents, tales of her dad not understanding social norms and accidentally publicly humiliating her in a poorly thought-out attempt to show his love barely fazed them. She wanted to maintain her new reputation, and thankfully she didn’t have to deal with pitiful looks within the group.

_“Wait? That’s her father? Pretty girl like her should be Roger’s.”_

_“Wow. I would be mortified if he were my dad.”_

But family reunions on her dad’s side were the worst. Though most people were pleasant enough to her, they ignored and belittled her dad to the point that it was just a game to them.

Her dad stared down at the paper plate he held, his slouch much worse than normal.

They knew he could hear them, but they didn’t care.

Deciding she’d had enough, Vanessa wrinkled her nose at the display of Drusselsteinian cuisine. Luckily for them, the spread was already disgusting and nobody would blame her for leaving the reunion in favor of finding something more appetizing.

“Dad, I want some real food,” Vanessa said. “Let’s just go to a café.”

Her dad may be denser than a brick, but even he recognized an opportunity to get away. For the first time today, his smile was genuine and not strained. He chatted her ear off as they left everyone in the dust, thinking up future inators or improving on old ones.

Heinz Doofenshmirtz was still her dad, unconventional hobbies and all.


	5. Brainstorm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buford is my favorite out of the main five kids. He has a lot of great hidden depths.

Though Buford could appreciate the organized chaos of an adolescent mind, Baljeet’s subconscious was a little too…overlord-y for his liking. Compared to the giant robotic Baljeet looming above them on an enormous control panel, Candace’s Id seemed like a friendly neighbor you started chatting with while grabbing the mail.

A projectile fired, barely missing Buford and slicing a giant eight in half.

Of course Baljeet’s subconscious was one giant calculator. Buford’s street cred would dwindle away to nothing if word got out. He wondered how he could go about creating an official non-disclosure agreement to get the others to keep their mouths shut.

And it couldn’t be a simple calculator either. There just had to be graphs.

Buford missed the varied landscapes of Candace’s subconscious. Here, everything was just gray and mechanical and boring. How was he supposed to lead a guided tour through this place if there was nothing interesting to talk about?

_“And to your left, you’ll see gray. Fun fact: the mind of a nerd is boring and watching paint dry is more entertaining than this. Please buy Lord Baljeet’s latest book, How to Remove Earth’s Atmosphere and Other Fun Science Projects for the Intellectual Mind, in the gift shop at the end of this tour. Make sure to take recyclable paper bags unless you want Lord Baljeet to set you one hundred unsolvable quadratic equations as punishment!”_

A nearby calculator key slid open, revealing a small hollow in the mechanical ground. Phineas’ head poked out of the hole, and he waved Buford over.

“CALCULATING OPTIMAL VELOCITY AND SPEED OF PARABOLARANGS.”

Buford had no idea what a parabolarang was, but he knew Phineas and Ferb could come up with a working plan to deal with the robotic Baljeet. He slid into the hollow just as the sound of something charging up grew louder.

“Now, Isabella!” Phineas shouted.

Isabella pulled on her Fireside Girl sash, releasing a lever on a wall and plunging them into a slight darkness as the calculator key closed above them. The only light came from tiny bulbs in the wall, casting the hollow in an eerie green glow.

“So does anyone know what we’re dealing with?” Buford demanded.

Isabella shrugged. “He’s acting like he’s got that brain stimulator on his head.”

“I don’t think we can approach this like Candace’s Id,” Phineas admitted. “The robotic Baljeet is too calculated. He’s using logic to determine his best way of attack.”

Buford scowled. “Hasn’t Baljeet’s nerdy Space Adventure films taught him anything? Robots with too much intelligence tend to develop huge egos and claim they’re better than us just because they’re not made out of carbon. The fifth movie is a prime example of that!”

He was pretty sure a cricket chirped somewhere, even though there were no crickets in the room.

“Not that I would know anything about it. It’s not like I’ve been having movie marathons with Baljeet or anything,” Buford coughed.

“Actually, I think you might be onto something,” Phineas said. “If the Id can have a physical form inside the subconscious, then the other parts of the Freudian mind might have one too.”

“It’s likely we’re dealing with Baljeet’s Ego, the polar opposite of the Id,” Ferb added. “Bruising it might be our best option.”

“Good thing we’ve got our friendly neighborhood bruiser right here!” Phineas grinned at Buford.

“Unless you want broken knuckles, you might wanna stick to talking,” Isabella suggested.

“Talk? Come on guys, you know I ain’t good at talking!” Buford protested.

An alarm blared, cutting off whatever inspiring words Phineas was going to say. The bulbs flashed red repeatedly. Everyone covered their ears.

“Is something out there?” Isabella shouted.

“Not sure!” Phineas yelled back. “Anyway, Buford, just use the normal bully language! And don’t worry, everyone knows an A.I’s greatest weakness is talking!”

“Sure you can’t just rig up some motorcycles that leave cool neon trails behind?” Buford asked. “Cause I ain’t sure your plan’s gonna work!”

The alarm blared louder.

“GRAMMAR POLICE! OPEN UP! BUFORD VAN STOMM, YOU ARE BEING CHARGED FOR USING A GRAMMATICALLY INCORRECT CONTRACTION AND ACKNOWLEDGING THE FIFTH SPACE ADVENTURE MOVIE AS CANON!”

“It had a good musical number though,” Phineas said.

“YOU WILL ALL BE CHARGED FOR ACKNOWLEDGING THE FIFTH SPACE ADVENTURE MOVIE IN GENERAL. WE WILL HAND YOU OFF TO THE OVERLORD FOR PUNISHMENT. COME OUT AND DON’T TRY ANYTHING FUNNY.”

The calculator key was hauled up by a green beam of energy, revealing a large ship controlling a tractor beam. Several robots in blue uniforms flooded in.

“WE HAVE THE CRIMINALS,” a robot said into a communication device as it grabbed hold of Buford’s arms. “BEAM US UP, LOTTIE. YES, I’M ALLOWED TO SAY IT. WE ARE PRODUCTS OF A SUBCONSCIOUS AND THEREFORE AREN’T SUBJECT TO COPYRIGHT LAWS.”

“I think I liked being attacked by the Ducky Momo club better,” Buford muttered as their surroundings disappeared and were replaced by a jail cell with electrified bars.

Since the guards weren’t leaving, they couldn’t come up with a plan, so the entire ten minute ride was spent in silence. Well, mostly silence. Phineas kept up a steady flow of chatter with the guards, unaware that they were probably ignoring him.

Since Buford had accumulated the most severe yet stupid charges, he walked in front of his friends. Buford felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck. He hoped the quadratic equation thing was an exaggeration.

“I SENTENCE YOU TO ONE MILLION MULTIPLICATION PROBLEMS,” the Ego declared to a bucktoothed and glasses-wearing robot as they were led into the control room.

The robot nodded.

“TO BE DONE WITHOUT YOUR INTERNAL CALCULATOR.”

The nerdbot had to be dragged out of the room, kicking and screaming all the way.

“OVERLORD, WE HAVE BROUGHT BUFORD VAN STOMM AND HIS PARTNERS IN CRIME. THEY HAVE DARED TO USE INCORRECT GRAMMAR IN YOUR MIND AND MENTIONED THE FORBIDDEN FILM,” the lead guard said.

“This is dumb!” Buford shouted at the guard. “I want a lawyer! A jury of my peers! Someone with an actual degree in law!”

“You’re a triviamaster in Space Adventure, Baljeet,” Phineas added. “You have to know what happens in the fifth Space Adventure movie during the trial scene.” 

Isabella made a show of rolling her eyes. “I don’t know what happens in the fifth movie. I’ve only seen the first two. For all I know, it could’ve gone exactly like this and we’ll all be doomed to one million multiplication problems ‘til our hundredth birthdays.”

“THAT IS NOT TRUE. THEY CLEARED THE LIEUTENANT OF ALL CHARGES AFTER THE CAPTAIN DISCOVERED THE FAKED EVIDENCE,” the Ego intoned.

“You’ve acknowledged the Forbidden Film,” Ferb said. “And broke your own law.”

“WHAT? NO! I HAVE INTELLIGENCE FAR BEYOND YOUR COMPREHENSION! I HAVE THE LARGEST BRAIN IN THE WORLD! MY PROCESSORS HAVE ADVANCED FARTHER THAN ANY COMPUTER MANKIND HAS EVER MADE!”

Sparks flew from between his joints and raced over his bolts. Without orders from their overlord, the Grammar Police were powerless. 

“Buford, go for the brain while he’s having an existential crisis!” Phineas shouted.

“On it!” Buford exclaimed, crackling his knuckles as he charged toward the Ego’s head. He shimmied up the robot’s arm, feeling electricity course through the metal. Not wanting to get caught in the blast if the Ego blew up, Buford quickened his pace, reaching the head after one brief misstep caused him to almost slip off entirely.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way inside from the top of the head. Everything was covered in reinforced metal. Even Buford couldn’t punch his way through. Then he looked down, realizing the eyes were made of more breakable material than the rest of the body. Hoping he wouldn’t be nursing bloody fists later, Buford punched the eye, and the material tore like paper.

Apparently the Ego hadn’t spent a lot of time reinforcing his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” Buford shouted in frustration. He could only fit one arm through the hollow opening. He felt around the area, hoping to tear out a few wires. Instead, his hand landed on something that felt like cloth.

The metal was growing hotter, and Buford knew he didn’t have much time. So he yanked on the cloth.

And a familiar scream sounded from inside the Ego.

Buford yanked one more time, and the real Baljeet tumbled out. He looked no worse for wear, other than being dazed from Buford pulling on his overalls strap.

“He’s got Baljeet!” Isabella exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here!”

Buford tucked Baljeet under his arm, catching up with everyone else as they sprinted out of the room. The Grammar Police didn’t pursue them, still shocked by their overlord malfunctioning. 

“Irving! Get us out of Baljeet’s subconscious!” Phineas shouted into his phone.

“Roger that, Phineas!” Irving exclaimed. “In ten, nine, eight-“

“SKIP THE COUNTDOWN!” Buford roared into the receiver.

Irving huffed. “Fine. I guess some people have no appreciation for a good countdown.”

A few moments later, Buford’s vision was flooded by blue and green. He ripped off the electrodes attached to his face, throwing them to the ground and stomping them into the dirt for good measure. Phineas, Ferb, Isabella, and Baljeet were already awake, though only Phineas was standing and moving around.

“Learned my lesson,” Baljeet groaned. “I will never spend another all-nighter arguing on Space Adventure forums.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been watching the original Star Trek series for the past few weeks with my dad. We like to make fun of the sci fi tropes. Some of that shows up here. 
> 
> The Id, Ego, and Superego are more useful as character building tools instead of real life psychology I think.


	6. Sculpture

Heinz stomped back and forth across the balcony as he impatiently waited for the right moment to activate the Pimple-inator. Since Heinz had chosen a giant birdcage with a perch for a trap, Perry had the perfect vantage point to keep an eye on the giant tarp being wheeled across the steps of City Hall.

“As if Roger’s ego needed more inflating!” Heinz griped. “Ice sculptures are the most annoying way to show off how important and great and popular certain people are! And it’s not even permanent either! You put in all that effort to carve something and it’ll just melt in a few hours!”

Perry watched the proceeds through his binoculars, occasionally checking on Heinz to make sure he was still distracted by his monologue. Roger was taking his sweet time with his endless trail of voters and admirers, flashing a prize-winning smile at the cameras.

His secretary didn’t seem too impressed though. She seemed to be the only one besides Heinz who found fault with Roger Doofenshmirtz.

“Any moment now, Perry the Platypus!” Heinz crowed as he aimed the Pimple-inator at the giant tarp. “Soon they’ll unveil Roger’s ice sculpture, and once they do, ugly red pimples will tarnish those features everyone finds so perfect! And then I’ll be made ruler of the ENTIRE! TRI! STATE! AREA!”

He cackled evilly, in the loosest interpretation of the word anyway.

Heinz frowned. “Y’know, it never sounds right to say that phrase normally. And then I’ll be made ruler of the entire Tri-State Area. See what I mean? No pizzazz, no evil triumph, it’s just flat. Flatter than…something that’s flat, I guess. I don’t know. I’m too busy seething to come up with a good metaphor right now.”

Roger finally stepped up to the podium, greeting his audience as he launched into yet another campaign speech.

Heinz squinted into the focusing lens, lining up his shot roughly where the head of the ice sculpture was supposed to be. “He’s gonna be disgraced and it’s gonna be glorious!” he exclaimed.

Roger grabbed the tarp and pulled it down, which seemed like a boring way to reveal something by Perry’s standards. At least Heinz knew how to pull off a dramatic flourish!

The ice sculpture was detailed down to the last button on Roger’s suit, but years of living with Phineas and Ferb taught Perry to expect lasers or a Canadian hockey team equipped with special gravity-defying skates at least. He was slightly disappointed to find neither of those things on the ice sculpture.

But hey, he was a secret agent, not an art critic. Perry easily slipped through the bars of the birdcage since it was designed for avians much larger than him, throwing his fedora at Heinz’s hand, which was poised over the fire button.

Heinz recoiled in surprise, and Perry put his fedora on again. He ran his hand along the brim, narrowing his eyes in challenge.

Heinz charged at Perry. But Perry easily sidestepped, sticking his foot out to trip Heinz, who fell flat on his face. “That’s just dirty!” Heinz spat a hair out of his mouth. “When was the last time this balcony was cleaned? I’m getting dirt smudges on my eighth favorite lab coat here!”

While he was distracted, Perry hit the self-destruct button on the Pimple-inator and activated his jet pack, flying safely out of the way while the Pimple-inator exploded, scattering charred metal all over the balcony.

Heinz sighed in resignation, accepting his fate even as pimples popped up on his face. “It’s like being a teenager all over again! And that’s not a good thing!” Heinz complained as he picked at a pimple on his cheek.

Perry dropped a small bottle of ointment at Heinz’s feet before taking off.

“Thanks for the bottle!” Heinz called. “But you know I still have to curse you, right?”

Perry smirked as the familiar “Curse you, Perry the Platypus!” sounded in the distance.

And if his jetpack’s flames were a tad too close to Roger’s ice sculpture, he could always blame it on a malfunction later.


	7. Camera

Lawrence had cameras for just about everything. Whether phone, digital, or film, there were countless moments worth preserving in pictures.

He captured Linda singing Love Handel songs while she cooked, giggling when Lawrence hid around the corner and filled in the background chorus for her. Her entire body moved when she sang, commanding the attention of an invisible audience.

He saw photos of Candace and Phineas when they were born, happily adding them to his album of their accomplishments and daily lives. Candace was self-conscious about pictures involving her, so he took a whole bunch of photos and allowed her critical eye to separate the good from the bad.

It was rare to find a photo of Phineas without Ferb. And even then, Ferb would be close at hand. Lawrence sometimes had to remind himself that the boys weren’t literally attached at the hip since they did everything together. Phineas’ smile and laughter were contagious, and Lawrence found that he had trouble holding the camera steady when Phineas suggested sillier things to say besides the bog-standard ‘cheese’.

Ferb knew his way around a toolbox blindfolded and he often had photos taken with a screwdriver in hand. That was how Ferb showed his personality, and Lawrence loved showing other people those photos. They always ‘awwed’ and called Ferb a little construction worker in the making.

And no family photo was complete without Perry, who seemed to enjoy being sandwiched between Phineas and Ferb. Sometimes Lawrence would wake up and find a photo of the children he couldn’t remember taking. But even photos he couldn’t remember were still photos worth cherishing, and he gladly added them to his collection.


	8. Simplicity

As much as Ferb loved creating things with his brother, there were also times where he just wanted to read a good book with the familiar sounds of the house as background noise. Besides, Isabella needed all the help she could get when it came to spending time with Phineas without anyone else there.

Ferb removed the 3D bookmark of Stumbleberry Finkbat from the pages of The Odyssey, reclining back as he reread the familiar words of Odysseus tricking the Cyclops into believing his name was Nobody. The pages beneath his fingers crinkled, the comforting scent of old paperbook books wafting gently in the air.

Perry settled against his side, eyes closed in bliss as Ferb rested a hand on top of the soft blue fur.

Carpe diem could be applied to simple, calm afternoons too. 


	9. Tough

They all had their roles on the team. Phineas was the leader. Ferb was the right-hand man. Isabella was the girl who crushed hard on the leader and awed everyone with an assortment of random skills. Baljeet was the awkward nerd who did boring math to make sure an invention wouldn’t send them hurtling towards Pluto.

And Buford? He was the muscle. The tough one.

The go-to guy they used for heavy lifting, bullying, and random musical instruments.

He had to be tough. For his mom, who raised him alone and taught him how to throw a solid punch. For Biff, who nearly got eaten twice in the line of duty as a trusted companion. For Baljeet, whose brains complimented his brute strength.

But sometimes toughness wasn’t all that useful. There was no place for the arts there, unless they needed to be destroyed.

French was a delicate and beautiful language. Every syllable had to land precisely. There was no room for clumsiness.

And there were all sorts of films out there. Rom coms, thrillers, epics, sci-fi, dystopias. There would be plenty of behind the scenes drama and actors demanding pay. Filmmaking was a tough process.

And Buford was just the kind of person for the job.


	10. Eavesdrop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I’m gonna be busy on Valentine’s, so I decided to upload this Perryshmirtz ficlet early. Enjoy!

Perry adjusted his headphones, placing the amplifier on the wall and finding a hollow spot that would allow for sound clarity. Since Monogram was in Fiji and Carl was managing all the morning briefings, Perry didn’t know what Heinz was planning for the day.

Though it was unlikely to be dangerous, Perry opted to do his own surveillance before busting down a wall. He could never be too careful, especially in his line of work.

“-and here’s a yellow rose for friendship. Sorry, this feels sorta awkward and stuff. I thought friendship was supposed to be rainbow colored.”

Heinz was using roses as a tool in his evil scheme. Strange source of power, but Perry could handle it.

“I’m kinda new to this floral language thing, you see. It’s probably the farthest thing from evil I could possibly get. Charlene had a friend who was invested in it back when we were married, and she got mad when I just found a dandelion on the lawn and gave it to Charlene. According to her, a dandelion is a weed and that was a sign of not putting my all into the marriage. Don’t know if she turned out to be right since we’re divorced though. So anyway, here’s some ferns. The website says they mean fascination. It’s the Internet. It must be true. And who wouldn’t be fascinated by you? If they weren’t, they’d need glasses and a hearing check!”

Perry took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around the amplifier.

“This last one is a forget-me-not. You know that thing where you pluck the petals of a flower and you alternate between ‘love me’ and ‘love me not’? I guess this flower was practically designed for that. And another thing…it stands for memories. Cause you gave me good ones. We had our arguments, but you’re still here. And…I’m glad for that.”

Perry immediately abandoned his equipment on the balcony, kicking it into a secluded corner. Then he quickly assumed a defensive position in front of Heinz, just so Heinz wouldn’t suspect he’d been eavesdropping. Startled by Perry’s sudden appearance, Heinz dropped a small flower bouquet, and it fell to the floor with a muffled thud.

“Perry the Platypus!” Heinz yelped. He put his hands on his hips as he nudged Pretendy the Practicepus under a couch and out of sight. “I wasn’t doing anything!”

Perry pointed to the bouquet.

Heinz gulped. “Oh. That. I thought it looked nice. I don’t like going to the store when they have Valentine stuff, cause the aisles are just filled with the most obnoxious shades of red imaginable. I swear, with some of those people if you can’t tell the difference between cardinal red and ruby red, you’re an uncultured slob. I could make three years’ worth of inators out of this day alone, you know! And I bought this, and then I spent a good chunk of the night on floral language websites.”

Perry picked up the bouquet. Some of the petals were ruffled, but the flowers were still fine. There was a yellow rose for friendship, surrounded by a cluster of ferns for fascination and blue forget-me-nots for all the good memories they shared.

Heinz bit his lip, avoiding Perry’s eyes.

“-maybe I could’ve gone for the usual roses. Cliché, but they get the job done. Don’t know if you’d appreciate hauling a bouquet bigger than your body-“

Knowing that Heinz could ramble about his self-doubt for hours if Perry didn’t nip it in the bud now, Perry set the bouquet down and kicked Heinz in the shin.

“Ow!” Heinz yelped.

Perry took advantage of Heinz’s distraction and produced a coupon for a seafood restaurant he’d nicked from the Flynn-Fletchers’ mail. Since Phineas and Ferb were occupied by their friends and inventions, Candace was fretting over Jeremy and other teenage romance drama, and Linda and Lawrence were too busy flirting with each other, nobody would notice a missing coupon.

“You have a coupon to that new seafood place?” Heinz gasped. “I thought they were too exotic to even have coupons!”

Perry smirked, setting the bouquet on a table so he could swing by after dinner and take it to his lair. Heinz had already given him a vase. And now Perry had flowers to go along with it.


	11. Fault

OWCA was not a paragon of truth and justice, despite their claims to the contrary. Heinz had witnessed their hypocrisy firsthand. They didn’t pay their interns, for evil’s sake! Even LOVEMUFFIN wouldn’t stoop that low. Hypnotizing the populace into doing his bidding was one thing, but unpaid labor was just the second most evil thing one could possibly do.

And the first thing?

Stealing the last packet of coffee beans from the kitchen and not having the decency to brew him a cup as well.

“Office rules, Perry the Platypus. You make your own cup, you gotta make enough for your coworkers too,” Heinz snapped.

A sheepish smile crossed Perry’s bill.

“Oh no, don’t try to cute your way out of this! I’m mad at you right now! Doesn’t OWCA teach you agents manners? If they don’t, I’m sending Monobrow a strongly worded email about that oversight! What kind of good guy organization allows its employees to just waltz in and help themselves to coffee in their enemy’s kitchen?”

Perry clutched his coffee mug in both hands, taking a slow sip as he peeked over the rim.

“Adorable, but it’s still your fault that I don’t have coffee.” 


	12. Phone

“This is ridiculous, Carl,” Monogram snapped, nose wrinkling at the company smartphone OWCA had recently issued him. “I have a perfectly good cell phone here.”

He held up his blocky flip phone, which looked sadly pathetic next to the more advanced smartphone.

“Sir, a lot of our equipment has been around since the dawn of time and could use an upgrade anyway,” Carl replied. “Besides, I think you’ll find texting much faster and easier on the smartphone.”

Monogram scowled. “My flip phone can’t have gone out of fashion already! What, did everyone just suddenly decide to buy a smartphone overnight?”

Glad that he came prepared, Carl whipped out a packet of sales reports and shoved them in Monogram’s face. “This graph is from the evil scientist-slash-pharmacist demographic alone. As you can see from this spike alone, smartphone sales increased by seventy percent in the week before Ducky MoGO was released. So yes, there was practically a technology revolution overnight.”

“I didn’t know evil scientists played Ducky MoGO.”

“Sir, Dr. Doofenshmirtz left seventeen voicemails bragging about stealing Team Momo’s Friendstops. Team Momo has lost City Hall, the Old Abandoned Old Abandoned Amusement Park, and the Slushy the Clown mascot on 7th and Main. If this keeps up, the evil scientists will be taking over the virtual world in no time.”

“We can’t let that happen,” Monogram said.

“Don’t worry, sir. I’ve taken the initiative. Our agents are equipped with smartphones and unlimited data, and they’re on MoGO’s other two teams and taking back those Friendstops as we speak. We’ll free the city from those miscreants in no time!”

O – O – O – O – O

Agent W squirmed on the smartphone screen uselessly. Smartphones required fingers, which worms sorely lacked.

He knew he should’ve stuck to eating dirt like the rest of his siblings.


	13. President

Being president of Uruguay had its perks. Stacy got decent pay, fashionable business suits, and even her own private jet. And thanks to her campaign, hairbows were back in style. There were several groups on social media who fervently tracked her hairbow usage, which she found both flattering and a little worried that they didn’t have anything else to do with their lives.

Of course, there were downsides too. Namely with the legislative policy that the media had dubbed the Llama Drama Act. Though she had to admit, it was a much better name than The All-Llama Theatre Troupe Sanctuary for Evading Arrest in the United States Due to Vandalism, Copyright Infringement of Famous Broadway Shows, and Harboring That One Llama with the Horrible Toupee Act.

Mostly Stacy just wanted to see what a llama production of Shakespeare plays would look like. Surely it couldn’t be as incomprehensible as Ye Olde English normally was.

Besides, she couldn’t lose the vote of llama enthusiasts. Apparently, there were a lot of them in Urugway.

Unfortunately, the Anti-Llama Committee of the legislative body were blocking the act from being passed to her for signing. And all because they were mad about llamas taking the spotlight from alpacas.

Stacy couldn’t even tell the difference between llamas and alpacas.

Stretched to her limit, Stacy decided to call in the big guns.

“Hello, Ferb? I need your terrifying and awesome persuasion skills. How soon can you come to Uruguay and help me with this llama legislation?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced: Quantum Boogaloo and What I’d Miss? Ferb’s persuasive skills are scary. He doesn’t even need to talk! 
> 
> The llama theater stuff is from MML’s The Llama Incident.


	14. Kids

So much had changed over the past year. Between the wedding plans, keeping house, and raising her children, Linda hadn’t been able to spend much time with Lawrence lately. She was so lucky that Lawrence was an understanding guy, though she knew he was busy with the dual citizenship process for himself and Ferb in addition to establishing his antique shop.

Lindana seemed like a lifetime away now. It was difficult to connect Linda Flynn-almost Fletcher to that carefree idol who partied and danced with no responsibilities weighing her down.

But today, she and Lawrence had managed to steal an afternoon for themselves. They just needed to drop the kids off at Vivian’s house before they could go act like lovestruck teenagers at the mall.

“Hi, Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro! Wehaveanewplatypuswannasee?” Phineas exclaimed the moment Vivian opened her door. He held Perry as high as he could, and Ferb’s hands circled around Perry to steady him. “His name is Perry and he likes bugs and sleeping and Ferb!”

“We nearly named him Bartholomew,” Ferb added.

“He’s so precious,” Vivian cooed. “Seems like we’ll be having a pet playdate today. I’ll let Isabella introduce you to the new puppy.”

Phineas stroked Perry’s head, undeterred by his lack of reaction. “You hear that, boy? You’ve got a new friend!” 

Perry chirped.

“Hear that? He’s so excited!” Phineas exclaimed.

Candace rolled her eyes. “He always sounds like that.”

It seemed like Phineas and Ferb were the only members of the family capable of distinguishing Perry’s vocalizations, insisting that there were differences between hunger, attention, sleepiness, and love. And so far, their claims were always accurate.

“Don’t keep Perry waiting now,” Vivian smiled. “Come in! I’ve got snacks on the counter, so please help yourselves!”

Phineas set Perry down, hugging Linda’s legs and grinning up at her. “Have a good date, Mom!” he said before turning to Lawrence. “Just so you know, she likes the hoop earrings at the kiosk by Mr. Slushy Burger.”

Linda giggled, unable to deny it. Vivian tried to stifle her laughter, but a snort escaped her.

Lawrence chuckled as he ruffled Ferb’s hair, taking it all in stride like the perfect gentleman he was. “Thank you for the tip, Phineas,” he said sincerely.

Phineas beamed at him. Then he grabbed Ferb and Perry, rushing past Vivian and down the hall.

“I’m in charge, right?” Candace asked. “I’m old enough to keep an eye on them.”

Sometimes it seemed like Candace had been born a teenager, and Linda had to watch Candace squeeze her Ducky Momo plush before remembering she was still several years away from adolescence.

“You’re in charge of making sure your brothers don’t eat too much before dinner,” Linda told her. She’d learned a long time ago that Candace was happiest when in charge of something, no matter how small the task was.

Candace smiled. “You can count on me, Mom!”

“I won’t let them eat too much,” Vivian protested.

“That’s what you said the last three times,” Linda retorted.

Holding her head high to appear more grown up, Candace marched into the house. “Phineas is right about the hoop earrings. Get them in silver. They’ll match her dress,” she told Lawrence before disappearing around a corner.

 _“MOM SAYS I’M IN CHARGE!”_ echoed from the kitchen several seconds later.

“Never a dull moment with those kids,” Lawrence smiled. “We’re so lucky.”

Linda kissed him, knowing that he deserved a reward just for being Lawrence, and the pictures that Vivian snapped on her phone would be perfect for the upcoming wedding.


	15. Umbrella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This quarantine is giving me way too much time to write silly stuff. I’m just trying to keep things lighthearted so we can laugh together.

_“Acute Triangle is approaching your position, Gretchen. Large orange umbrella in hand. ETA two minutes.”_

“Roger that, Holly. Standby in case we need a distraction for the entourage,” Gretchen replied before signing off and setting the walkie-talkie aside.

“I still think we should have gone with Isosceles Triangle,” Ginger muttered, peering out from beneath the camouflage umbrella with a pair of binoculars. The rain beat down mercilessly, soaking her face within seconds. But she didn’t react, continuing to survey their surroundings.

“You’re just mad because you wanted to use ‘A Cute Boy’ for Baljeet’s codename,” Gretchen said. “What’s our current status?”

Gretchen checked the weather report one more time, just to make sure the rain wouldn’t suddenly clear up and ruin their efforts. In that case, they could always fall back on Plan B and transport Phineas and Isabella to Seattle.

“Pink Powerhouse is still without an umbrella. Currently shielding herself with a raincoat. Raincoat proving ineffective,” Ginger reported. “Her hair is gonna be a mess after this.”

Gretchen winced in sympathy. Isabella’s hair didn’t react well to this sort of weather. “Yeah, that’ll be a pain alright.”

 _“Perimeter alert! Obsessive Fan encroaching on setup! Will intercept Acute Triangle in one minute on his current trajectory!”_ Holly shouted, the static crackling against her panicked tone.

Snatching up the walkie-talkie, Gretchen quickly called in the rest of the troop. “Security team! Get Obsessive Fan out of there stat!” she barked.

 _“We took care of it the moment we heard Holly’s transmission,”_ Katie replied, her voice confident and calm. _“Obsessive Fan is currently in our custody and Acute Triangle was unaware of his presence. Permission to interrogate?”_

“No need for interrogations, Katie,” Gretchen said. Next to her, Ginger sighed in relief. “Just hold him until our targets leave.”

A garbled male voice sounded through the speakers.

“ _You lucked out, Irving. If that’s even your real name_ ,” Adyson said. “ _Our acting leader might not be so lenient next time_.”

 _“I’ll have you know that my brother is planning to be a lawyer. I’ll call him and you’ll be sorry,”_ Irving declared smugly.

“ _We have several gift cards for that trendy coffee shop downtown,”_ Millie replied. “ _We’re not above persuasion tactics_.” 

_“Ha! You actually think that would work? Imported coffee beans from Jamaica can’t possibly take priority over the bonds of sacred brotherhood and-oh, who am I kidding? This is Albert we’re talking about.”_

Since the security team was handling Irving just fine, Gretchen didn’t feel the need to monitor the situation any further.

“Acute Triangle’s within range!” Ginger exclaimed. She bounced on her knees, almost dislodging the umbrella. “I repeat, Acute Triangle’s within range!”

Gretchen pulled out her own binoculars, glad that the organization had sprung for the waterproof lens.

It was impossible to hear anything further than twenty feet over the roar of the rain, but she was satisfied with just visuals in this case.

Isabella paced along the pathway, occasionally splashing through a puddle in her rainboots and looking miserable, which was heightened by her hair plastering to her face. It would be impossible for even the toughest brick wall to ignore her plight.

“Acute Triangle and Pink Powerhouse are at the rendezvous point,” Ginger said into her walkie-talkie, and everyone else responded with ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhhs’, even Irving. “Acute Triangle has initiated the conversation.”

“Come on, Isabella. You can’t play the long game anymore,” Gretchen murmured as Isabella rocked back and forth on her heels. She was trying the cuteness spiel again.

Hadn’t Isabella learned anything? Her cuteness didn’t faze Phineas! He already knew she was cute! She couldn’t catch him off-guard that way!

Groans of disappointment came from the walkie-talkie.

_“Every time without fail!”_

_“We’re gonna catch colds and it’ll be for nothing!”_

_“Any chance we could intervene?”_

“Hold your position, girls,” Gretchen ordered. “This is something our leader’s gotta do on her own. We’re just making sure the venue’s clear.”

She studied Phineas carefully. Mild concern had replaced his usual smile. He glanced up at the heavy clouds, then back at Isabella, who tightly held her hood in place with both hands. His grip shifted on the handle.

He took a step forward.

Then another. Isabella stopped speaking, giving Phineas a shocked look before a wide grin overtook her face.

Ginger screamed in delight.

Isabella was finally underneath the umbrella, and the Fireside Girls cheered.

Phineas and Isabella disappeared around a corner, the umbrella large enough for them to be close but not close enough to be uncomfortable.

“Mission accomplished, girls!” Gretchen praised, switching the channel on her walkie-talkie. The background noise was much quieter this time. “We’ve met our goal, Silent One. Have you upheld your end of the bargain?”

“…the forms are in your Fireside emails. Thank you for helping my brother along. Silent One out.”

“You heard him! Pack it up, girls!” Gretchen said over the celebratory yells. “Onward to headquarters and those matchmaker patches!”

Ginger snapped her walkie-talkie back into its case, then glanced at Gretchen in confusion. “Do you feel like we’re forgetting anything?” 

O – O – O – O – O

“Girls? You forgot to untie me! Oh well, I’lI Spy by myself while I wait for someone to come and save me from this downpour. I spy with my little eye, something wet! Which is everything! Okay, something a little harder now. I spy with my little eye, something lavender! It’s the plant next to my foot!”

_3…_

_2…_

_1…_

“IT’S RIGHT NEXT TO MY FOOT! GET IT AWAY! GETITAWAYGETITAWAY! MY INEXPLICABLE FEAR OF LAVENDER HASN’T BEEN CURED YET!”


	16. Cook

The roof of Vanessa’s bedroom was ripped off by her overzealous robot brother at six on a Saturday morning. Saturdays were meant for sleeping in, but apparently her dad’s habit of waking up at some forsaken hour to scheme had rubbed off on Norm.

“WAKEY WAKEY CHOCOLATE CAKEY!” Norm cheered, in the closest imitation to cheering that his voice chip would ever produce. “GOOD MORNING, SIS!”

Vanessa rolled over, burying her face into a pillow. If she ignored him, he’d go away once he got bored.

“WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO MAKE BREAKFAST IN BED FOR OUR DAD!”

She seriously needed to invest in noise-cancelling earmuffs.

“Father’s Day was last month, Norm,” Vanessa mumbled into her pillow. “Or two months ago. I don’t know, the dates all blend in summer and I don’t feel like getting up to find a calendar.”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MY PUPPY DOG EYES? I’VE BEEN PRACTICING SO I CAN GET DAD TO PLAY CATCH WITH ME!”

Vanessa jolted awake. She’d seen Norm cry motor oil once while trying the puppy dog technique, and it was very messy business. She had no wish to repeat that incident ever again.

“I’m up!” she snapped, leaping out of bed and snatching her hairbrush off the nightstand. “Put the roof back, let me get dressed, don’t leak motor oil into my room, and maybe I’ll consider helping you!”

“I’LL BE OUTSIDE!” Norm chirped.

Vanessa buried her face into her hands. She wondered how Candace managed to survive being an older sister.

O – O – O – O – O

By some stroke of luck, her mom was on an overnight camping trip for the weekend without wifi, saving Vanessa from any awkward explanations.

Apparently Norm had spent the past few days collecting ingredients, since the storage closet was almost bursting with flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. The refrigerator was full of blueberries and butter.

She wasn’t sure if Heinz was aware that his living space had essentially been converted into a bakery, or if he was taking advantage of the ingredients and scheming to create a recipe for evil blueberry muffins.

“I DID ALL MY CALCULATIONS, AND THE PROJECTED TOTAL IS SIX HUNDRED BLUEBERRY MUFFINS,” Norm said. “PLEASE HELP ME BRING THESE INGREDIENTS TO THE KITCHEN SO WE CAN GET STARTED.”

He handed her a recipe page and chef’s hat, then gathered a shelf’s worth of items before heading to the kitchen. Sighing, Vanessa grabbed a bag of flour and trudged after him.

“Try not to burn down the kitchen,” Vanessa warned as she dumped a cupful of sugar into a mixing bowl. “Explosions are Dad’s thing.”

“DON’T WORRY, SIS. I’VE LEARNED FROM DAD’S MISTAKES. I KNOW EFFECTIVE WAYS TO BRING THE TRI-STATE AREA TO ITS KNEES AND HOW TO APOLOGIZE TO PLATYPI WHEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY CHEAT ON THEM WITH A PANDA BEAR.”

“I don’t consider that a strange sentence,” Vanessa admitted. “Should I be concerned?”

“NOPE.”

“You’re right. Probably not worth it.”

Norm’s fingers retracted, an assortment of measuring spoons replacing them. He dug the spoons into the baking powder, tossing it into the large bowl that was too high for Vanessa to reach. When he was finished, Vanessa grabbed her own spoon and added the baking powder to her own bowl, which was thankfully sized for a normal human.

_“Hey, this thing’s jammed again! That’s it, I’m swearing vengeance against locks! And locksmiths to an extent too, but mostly the locking mechanisms themselves!”_

A banging noise persisted in the background, and Vanessa was tempted to keep it there so she didn’t fall asleep on the spot.

“PLEASE IGNORE THAT. THAT WAS…MY…MIXTAPE. I FORGOT TO TURN IT OFF,” Norm said, intently stirring the contents of his bowl.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Sure, Dad swearing revenge against an oddly specific object just happens to be on your mixtape. You locked him in his room last night, didn’t you?”

“NOOO?” Norm replied, drawling the syllable for way too long.

“You’re a terrible liar, Norm,” Vanessa said, handing her finished bowl to Norm and starting over with another one. “Do you want me to teach you how to lie properly? You might not have to use that skill around Dad, but it’ll come in handy if you need to lie to anyone else.”

“ALRIGHT. I’LL JUST LIE TO PERRY THE PLATYPUS.”

“No. Do NOT lie to Perry the Platypus. He will give you his ‘I am so disappointed in you’ glare and look like one of those really sad animals on an ASPCA commercial at the same time. I was on the receiving end of that once after I lied about a date, and I felt like I kicked a million puppies for a week afterwards. It’s not a fun experience.”

It took forty minutes to get all the dry ingredients into the bowl and gather the remaining items, but Norm was surprisingly fun to talk to during the monotonous work. It wasn’t like talking with her mom, who was one of the few adults she respected, or her dad, who talked more than he listened. Perry gave good advice, but he could be a brick wall on occasion. She had to project an air of apathy and rebellion with her peer group, and she had to be careful about what she said around Monty. 

Norm was surprisingly insightful, and even witty with his own sarcastic quips. Despite admiring Heinz and wanting his approval, he wasn’t blind to the man’s flaws either. He just didn’t have the experience in handling him yet.

And Vanessa didn’t mind giving a few pointers.

“I know I complain a lot about Dad, but I care about him too,” Vanessa said. “He spent nearly a decade searching for a discontinued doll that I wanted as a kid. He didn’t have to. It was just one of those heavily marketed toys for the holiday season, and I was never upset about not getting it. I moved on after a while. But Dad never forgot that conversation. That’s the thing about him. He might be dense as a rock to what you actually want, but he’ll jump at any opportunity to give you what he thinks you want. Sometimes it works, sometimes it can be infuriating.”

Norm was silent for a while. Then he replaced his spoons with fingers and grabbed several boxes of blueberries from the fridge. “USING YOUR ADVICE, I THINK I’LL SIT HIM DOWN FOR A TALK AND EXPLAIN WHAT I WANT FROM HIM SO HE DOESN’T HAVE TO GUESS.”

“Best idea I’ve heard from you all day,” Vanessa said. “And if he tries to bail out, get Perry to sit on him.”

Norm laughed and moved onto the eggs, preparing to drop the entire carton into the mix.

“Norm, you’d better fold in the blueberries,” Vanessa said, quickly stopping him before anything inedible could ruin the mixture. She grabbed a clean bowl and expertly cracked several eggs, tossing the eggshells into a plastic bag. “I agree with Dad on how humans don’t eat eggshells or cartons.”

“YOU AGREE WITH DAD?”

“Yeah, I know. Put it on the record.”

Fifty eggs and seventy-five boxes of blueberries later, Norm’s built-in mixers made short work of the batter. Soon it was golden and thick, ready to be ladled into the muffin trays for baking. Still, Vanessa felt like they were missing something.

There was an unused container of sugar almost as long as her arm sitting on the counter. With such a large amount of ingredients, it was easy to miss one.

“Norm, we forgot about that sugar container,” Vanessa said.

Norm unscrewed the lid and dumped the white grains into the mix, giving it several quick stirs with his spoons. When he was finished, he started ladling the mix into each hole on the muffin tray. Vanessa hadn’t realized they owned so many muffin trays, or that the oven could hold eight at a time, or that Norm could transfer heat from his systems to make them bake faster.

Norm even understood basic safety and poured his undivided attention on the muffins, making sure none of them burned or set off the smoke detectors. It was good to know someone in the penthouse had enough sense to observe safe electrical practices.

Confident that Norm could take care of the kitchen by himself, Vanessa went to the bathroom to wash the sugar and eggs off her hands. When she came out, she found a very sheepish Perry handing a generous portion of his salary to her dad, who was nursing a black eye and bruised hand.

“-so next time, warn a guy before you knock down their door! The key was literally on the peg! You could’ve just grabbed that!” Heinz scolded, holding a bag of frozen peas to his eye. Then surprise overtook the scowl when he spotted Vanessa, and the toothy grin looked pretty ridiculous with half his face covered by frozen veggies. “Morning, Vanessa. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be sleeping in at Charlene’s like a normal teen.”

Vanessa shrugged. “Normal teens don’t have robot brothers who destroy roofs at six on a Saturday morning. Hey, Perry. I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”

Perry tilted his fedora to her.

“I sent a distress signal to OWCA since I was locked in my bedroom. And then a certain agent who I won’t name decided to knock my door off its hinges while I was leaning against it,” Heinz muttered. “In addition to teaching robots certain bad habits like breaking people’s homes. I told you he’d be influenced by your dynamic entrances!”

Offended, Perry pointed accusingly at Heinz.

“Well, it’s not my side he gets it from!”

Heinz stood up, discarding the frozen peas on the couch. Perry got into a fighting stance, but before either of them could start brawling, Norm strolled into the living room, cheerily humming the Muffin Man song as he set a tray of blueberry muffins on the coffee table.

“GOOD MORNING, DAD! GOOD MORNING, PERRY THE PLATYPUS!” Norm said. “VANESSA AND I MADE BLUEBERRY MUFFINS FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!”

“I’m not done with you, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the tray. “But we’ll continue this after muffins.”

He nearly swallowed a blueberry muffin whole, then his eyes widened. He rushed to the kitchen, coughing and sputtering all the way as he hurriedly gulped down a glass of water.

Vanessa and Perry sampled a small piece, grimacing as the saltiness exploded across their tongues. And to think Heinz actually survived after eating a whole muffin.

“ANALYSIS SHOWED THAT THE LAST CONTAINER WAS SALT, NOT SUGAR,” Norm said, projecting a holographic image of a chemical formula.

“You couldn’t have said that before we used it?” Vanessa sighed.

“FORGIVE ME. MY OBSESSION WITH IMPRESSING DAD TENDS TO OVERTAKE MY RATIONAL THOUGHTS.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Vanessa muttered.

“You made how many of these things?” Heinz asked incredulously, taking note of just how much flour, salt, batter, and leftover muffins coated his kitchen. “Alright, do you know how weird it is that this place is a mess and for once I’m not the culprit behind it? I’ve heard of role reversal, but that’s just weird.”

Vanessa agreed as she broke out the cleaning supplies. “So, clean up and blueberry muffins at the café?”

“DO I GET TO TRY COFFEE?”

“No!” Heinz said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Your systems are for making good muffins and assisting me in evil, not for caffeine.”

Perry and Vanessa shared a knowing smile when Heinz wasn’t looking. It was progress.

“Dad, you can go scheme or something if you want,” Vanessa said. “Norm and I can clean. It’s our mess.”

Heinz shrugged, continuing to scrub at a stubborn crack where flour had settled. “I know, but you and Norm and Perry the Platypus are always helping me clean my messes. I want to return the favor.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Vanessa smiled.

“Anytime, sweetie.” 

Courtesy of Perry, a new photo was displayed on the mantle within a week. Heinz was covered head to toe in flour after a mishap with a leftover bag, Norm was rebooting after his squirrel escaped from its wheel and wreaked further havoc, and Vanessa was trying to do damage control around the sink area.

It was the best photo she’d ever seen of her family.


	17. Plant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeff McGarland is the producer Heinz pitches Doof N Puss to in Nerds of a Feather, voiced by the creator of Family Guy.

_Up on the windowsill, look! It’s a tchotchke! It’s a freshly-baked blueberry pie that’s gonna get stolen by neighborhood hoodlums if you don’t watch it! It’s Planty the Potted Plant!_

_More stationary than the Danville Highway at rush hour, more photosynthetic than your average garden plant, able to beat evil scientists in a single swing, this amazing specimen of organic life from Ztrimhsnefood Good Incorporated, the Plant of Steel: Planty the Potted Plant! Possessing the power of cellular respiration, Planty the Potted Plant fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice, and the Plantian way!_

O – O – O – O

“Thank you for not tying me up like a loony fan. I get way too many of those,” Jeff McGarland sighed. “Especially after the mid-season twist of The Platypus and His Girlfriend. Those were dark days. Very dark days…”

He shuddered.

“So while I love your pitch, I think I have a better idea that’ll really send your ratings sky high!” McGarland exclaimed. “Let’s add in a girlfriend! Something alliterative, like Peony or Petunia the Potted Plant. They’ll greenlight us in no time!”

Planty looked at him, or at least he thought it did, because Planty had no eyes.

McGarland sat back in his chair, waiting for Planty to make its move. “If you decide to go for it in the next five minutes, I can get my team of spider monkeys working on the scripts right away. We’ll churn out at least two hundred episodes jam-packed with crude humor, unlikable characters, and poor animation by lunch!”

Planty crossed its leaves.

“You’re a non-mobile plant. It’s not like a giant rabbit-dog-naked mole rat-cyborg-crystalline-recombinant lifeform is just gonna fall out of the sky to stop me from claiming credit for your storyboard!” McGarland exclaimed, snatching the storyboard off its stand.

The ceiling caved in before he could break for the exit.

Lo and behold, a giant rabbit-dog-naked mole rat-cyborg-crystalline-recombinant lifeform fell out of the sky, pinning McGarland under its huge feet.

It ripped up the storyboard and ate it, and Planty thanked (at least I think it did) the monster for saving its idea from a terrible fate.

The end...or is it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a low opinion of adult animation, in case you couldn’t tell.


	18. Bunny

Perry loved his boys. He loved their creativity and passion. He loved how they made the most of every day. He loved how they brought impossible dreams to life.

That did not mean he loved the white Easter Bunny onesie they dressed him up in. In fact, every human he knew seemed to have a penchant for dressing him up in outfits they considered adorable, but were horribly embarrassing for his job.

He could only pray that picture of him in the coconut bra and grass skirt never made its way to Heinz.

But he had to admit, the picture of Phineas and Ferb with bunny ear headbands and hugging him while he was stuck in the onesie made for a decent springtime screensaver.


	19. Writer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Candace says she wrote a fanfic of Thor and Hulk learning to ice skate in Mission Marvel. That is literally the only line I remember from that special XD. Sorry in advance for any inaccuracies. I don’t know anything about Avengers. They don’t appear in person here though.

Candace groaned, her head smacking painfully against the keyboard as the construction noise outside drilled its way into her brain. As if she wasn’t having enough issues trying to decide on the type of cookies that Ducky Momo and the Incredible Hulk would bake in her fanfic.

Chocolate chip and sugar cookies were alright, but slightly basic. Spiderman had a peanut allergy. Nobody except Lawrence liked oatmeal and raisin.

“C’mon, Mom bakes cookies practically every day!” Candace muttered. “It shouldn’t be that hard to come up with something!”

A loud crash from outside told her that it would be extremely hard to come up with something.

Growling to herself, Candace jumped to her feet and yanked up her window. She spotted Phineas by the gate, waving glowsticks to guide the delivery men who were bringing in boxes of old sci-fi tech. 

“Hey, aren’t you a little young to have the money needed for space travel?” one of the delivery guys asked as Phineas signed his name on the form.

“Yes. Yes, he is,” his coworker sighed, accepting the paper from Phineas. “What did I tell you questioning things in this city, Tom?”

Tom gulped, tugging on his collar nervously. “Never question logic unless you want anthropomorphic animals to drag you into the ice cream truck and replace you with a robot.”

“Exactly. Now come on. We’ve got ten boxes of almond brittle, several pet carriers, and a yodeling kit to deliver to a Mr. Doofyshirt or something.”

“Good luck!” Phineas shouted as the delivery guys left the backyard. He turned to Ferb, who was hammering away at a rivet on the nose of a half-finished rocket. “Like I was saying before, we’ll stop by the Shooting Star Milkshake Bar first and see if any of the customers are willing to be extras-“

“PHINEAS!” Candace shouted, drawing his attention. “Just what are you up to at-“ she glanced at the analog clock numbly, trying to remember how to read it “-nine and the long hand pointing at the second mark between three and four?”

“Oh, we’re just making a Space Adventure on-location fan film production. With real aliens. And Buford’s directing,” Phineas pointed to the bully, who lounged in a director’s chair while ordering Baljeet to bring him random props.

“Buford? I thought he was a Finkie,” Candace said. 

“I AM,” Buford shouted through his megaphone. “AND THEN I EMOTIONALLY CONNECTED WITH THE CYGNIANS AND THEIR WARMONGERING CULTURE. BALJEET, BRING ME THE GLARFIAN BLASTER.”

Baljeet shrieked, covering his ears as the megaphone blasted in his face. “It’s the Glarfian disruptor! Disruptors and blasters are two completely different weapon classes!”

“They both shoot lasers! Does it really matter?”

“ARGH! Do you even realize what would happen if I took you to a Space Adventure trivia tournament and you claim that disruptors and blasters are the same thing? The other Speckies would force you to wear the Dodecahedron of Shame! That is not something I would wish on the worst bully!”

“What about Irving’s older brother?”

Baljeet scratched his head in thought. “Okay, maybe him. He deserves it.”

Candace coughed. “As much as I love listening to conversations where I only understand every other word, I’ve got a fanfic to write and I can’t do that while you’re doing something bustable!”

She shut the window before Phineas had a chance to respond.

The construction noise resumed as she returned to her laptop.

Where was she again? Shopping antics since Hulk couldn’t handle a bag of flour without ripping it, Ducky Momo mixing dry ingredients…right, she still couldn’t figure out the type of cookies they were baking.

She glanced out the window again. Her brothers were almost through with the preparations and would be taking off any second now.

Her phone was within reach, but she shook her head and went back to her screen, fingers poised over the keys.

_No to white chocolate, macadamia, fudge, rocket…wait, that’s not a cookie!_

Unable to resist the urge, she called Linda.

“Mom!” Candace yelled. “Phineas and Ferb are planning to shoot a fanmade film in space!”

There was some angry grumbling in the background. “Candace, while that sounds adorable, I’m in the middle of baking class and the chef doesn’t like phone calls interrupting his lecture. These notes on cinnamon to sugar ratios in snickerdoodle cookies aren’t going to write themselves-“

“Snickerdoodles! Mom, that’s it! Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Usually when you want something, but yes.”

Candace typed quickly, incorporating snickerdoodles where she could. And then she realized one crucial detail.

“They never bought cinnamon! How are they supposed to make snickerdoodles without cinnamon?”

She slammed her head against the keyboard. Back to square one, as always.


	20. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know how to write LOVEMUFFIN members but I sure as heck tried XD

“Welcome to this month’s LOVEMUFFIN meeting!” Heinz called to Dr. Bloodpudding. “Help yourself to some chocolate chip muffins! Seriously, take some. Norm made way too much again. Perry the Platypus and I can’t finish them all.”

Dr. Bloodpudding loaded several muffins onto a paper plate and took his seat at the long table.

Heinz was glad to see that Norm’s pastries were the most popular item at the buffet, since everything else seemed bland, unappetizing, or was full of beard hair. And it was extremely satisfying to see Rodney huffing in anger when his broccoli casserole was rebuffed in favor of the muffins. 

Once everyone was settled and a booster seat was found for Dr. Diminutive, Heinz thumped the table to get their attention, reminding himself to invest in a judge’s gavel. It would’ve been so much cooler.

“Alright, now that we’re all here, I just want to start this off with a reminder that Monobrow is expecting a decrease in evil activity next week because he’s going on a vacation to Palm Beach. So include an extra day of evildoing if possible, because we’re bad guys and we like to spite him,” Heinz said. “Does anyone want to say anything before we start not listening to any concerns?”

When nobody spoke up, Rodney jumped to his feet. Heinz growled as Rodney shoved him out of the way and pulled out a pie chart from…somewhere.

“Out of my way, Doofy,” Rodney sneered. He pointed to the red slice of his pie chart. “I took the time to survey our organization, and the vast majority in the evil community agree that LOVEMUFFIN is a terrible name and should be changed to something that better reflects our evil values.”

“I spent an entire thirty-seven minutes coming up with that name!” Heinz spat. “You can’t just undermine it like that!”

Villainous evildoers? Frightening? Naughtiness? The name already reflected evil values for crying out loud!

“You never surveyed me,” Dr. Bloodpudding said, wiping crumbs off his fairly impressive mustache. Heinz was a little jealous of his facial hair.

“Or me!” Dr. Diminutive squeaked.

The other evil scientists in the room chorused that they’d never been surveyed either.

Rodney’s face turned slightly red. “So the pie chart has a high margin of error. Big deal. But seriously, I propose changing the acronym.”

“The spelling wasn’t my intention,” Heinz snorted. “But you have to admit it’s better than OWCA. That’s not only uncool, but it’s also Polish for sheep. Sheep have nothing to do with spies, by the way. Unless it’s a spy sheep, but I haven’t seen any of those in the Danville division.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “Moving away from your tangent, I want to call ourselves the Heinous Association to Exploit Chaotic Undertakings Per Capita and Kill Ethics. It’s much more appropriate.”

Dr. Bloodpudding wrote the name on a napkin, then shook his head. “We would be known as HATECUPCAKE. It’s a terrible name.”

“I’ll have you know that my grandmother was a world class cupcake maker! That name is a disservice to her skills!” Dr. Diminutive shrieked.

“Oh, so plagiarizing my inventions isn’t enough for you? Now you have to plagiarize my acronyms too?” Heinz complained. “You can’t possibly stoop any lower.”

Rodney’s face turned red as everyone in the room shouted down his proposal, proclaiming their love for cupcakes, icing, and for some reason, the paper that was somewhat annoying to unwrap while eating. “I know what I’m talking about! I actually went to law school, unlike the rest of you fake doctors!” he shouted.

“Eat your words, Heinz,” Dr. Bloodpudding said. “Apparently he can stoop lower.” 

“I don’t think I can,” Heinz replied. What was the point of that phrase? It was impossible to eat words, unless you wrote them a cake first. “And I pulled an all-nighter on the Internet just for my doctorate!”

 _“_ Cupcakes are delicious!”

“What do you have against cupcakes, man?”

“HE INSULTED MY GRANNY!” 

Seeing that he wouldn’t win any points, Rodney scowled and hiked the pie chart over his head as he stormed out. “All of you are too narrow-minded to appreciate my genius!” he called over his shoulder. “Me and my carefully constructed are out! I wish you all inner turmoil!”

Really, Heinz had no idea what Rodney was trying to accomplish. He had enough inner turmoil, thank you very much.

But the League of Villainous Evildoers Manically United for Frightening Investments was here to stay. It was the little victories that counted. 


	21. Cucumber

Perry used the key this time. He needed to tread carefully because of yesterday’s mishap when the experimental thrust on his hovercraft backfired and left a gaping hole in Heinz’s wall.

He carefully poked the carpet with a webbed foot and glanced at the ceiling, but there was nothing to indicate a trap of any kind. Not even a simple rope or cage.

“Perry the Platypus, over here! I’m just chilling, in this giant box, ignoring the vegetable on the floor which isn’t inexplicably out to get me….”

Heinz peered out from the flaps of a giant cardboard box, hissing when he caught sight of the cucumber. Perry kicked the cucumber out of Heinz’s field of vision. 

Perry gave him his best ‘there better be a good explanation for this’ look, because as far as he could tell, it was a normal cucumber with no genetic modifications, violent tendencies, or intent to overthrow the human race.

“Alright, so I might’ve tried amplifying my ocelot instincts so I could come out on top-cause you never let me on top-well, I guess I would squish you or something but a little role reversal never hurt anyone, Perry the Platypus! Where was I?”

Perry made a triangle with his fingers.

“Right, the ocelot instincts. So I built the Instinct-inator, you know, that’s actually a good name. I like the alliteration. I really want to use that in an evil monologue. Anyway, I tested the Instinct-inator on myself, and while it did give me the instincts to stalk you, like in a hunting sort of way not the creepy way, I also got the urge to cram myself into boxes, a craving for raw meat, and of course the inexplicable fear of cucumbers.”

Perry folded his arms.

Heinz threw up his arms. “I don’t know either, okay? So…would you be a mensch and get rid of that cucumber for me, please?”

Rolling his eyes, Perry scooped up the cucumber and threw it off the balcony.

“Thanks, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz sighed in relief.

Perry tapped his watch when Heinz still didn’t climb out of the box.

“What? Just because you got rid of that awful cucumber doesn’t mean I actually want to get out of this box anytime soon! It’s actually pretty comfy in here. But if you wanna join me, you’d better wash the scent of that cucumber off your paws first.” 

o-o-o-o-o

“I can’t believe you sold an arm and leg for an urban vegetable garden and didn’t buy any vegetables! What did you think, vegetables were just going to fall out of the sky?”

A cucumber dropped into the farmer’s hands.

“You’d think I’d learn by now,” his wife groaned. “At least tell me you didn’t leave fingerprints behind.”

“Okay, I didn’t leave fingerprints behind.”

She peered at him suspiciously. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better, or-?”

A cacophony of sirens was her answer.

“IT’S THE COPS, RUN! AND DON’T THINK I’M THROUGH WITH YOU EITHER, YOU SORRY EXCUSE OF A RUNNING GAG!”


	22. Green

It was the first day of school, and Phineas’ ideas on how to condense “What I Did on Summer Vacation” into a five minute presentation were already devolving into daydreams of revamping the worn kickball field into something more exciting. Kickball was mandatory since it was the mayor’s favorite pastime, but no vaguely-aged preteen found the sport exciting at all.

Maybe they could go for Kickball F10 and spice it up with an 80s party mix, fluctuating gravity, and Bulgarian folk dancing. Letters A through E were already reserved for other sports.

The thoughts faded from his mind when a teacher stopped Ferb before he could enter the classroom.

“Young man, your hair is against dress code,” the teacher said, wrinkling his nose at Ferb. “I only allow natural colors in the classroom. Anything else is too distracting.”

Phineas didn’t recognize the teacher. Probably new then.

“Ferb’s hair color is naturally him,” Phineas said. “It’s genetic.”

“Yes, and I’m the Duke of York posing as an elementary school teacher,” the teacher crossed his arms.

Phineas blinked at him. “Wow, you are? Cool! But why would you be telling us this if you were undercover?”

Ferb lightly nudged Phineas in the side.

“Oh, that was sarcasm. Got it,” Phineas said sheepishly. But it was good to know the teacher had a sense of humor.

The teacher cleared his throat. “Like I said, natural hair colors only. I’m afraid I can’t let you in.” 

Ferb slipped off his backpack and unzipped it, revealing a massive thousand page album that shouldn’t have been able to fit in a standard backpack but somehow did thanks to Ferb’s mad compression skills.

“This is an album with my ancestors dating back to the legendary hero Ferbalot,” Ferb explained, allowing the teacher a glimpse of every green-haired ancestor while he rapidly flipped the pages. “Since his time, green hair has shown up every other generation.”

“We also have a paper copy of the exact sequence of the Ferb gene,” Phineas said, flipping to the last page for the detailed DNA sequence.

The teacher’s jaw slackened, and he blankly gestured to the classroom.

“Work with kids, they said. You’ll have no trouble asserting your authority, they said…”


	23. Movie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in the Quantum Boogaloo future.

“Sir, the reviews for ‘Phineas and Ferb: The Movie’ are coming in…um, are you sure you wanna see this? I thought you’d wanna be in a good mood for dining out with your wife…” the assistant mumbled, his hands wringing nervously.

“Of course I’m in a good mood, Bob!” the director snapped, shoving the assistant aside as the hologram data displayed the reviews. “This is the blockbuster hit of whatever future year this is! I’m making billions! What could possibly be more blockbuster-y than the story of a boy in a suburban backyard?”

Bob took a deep breath. “Superheroes, man-eating sharks, poor adaptations of books….”

The director glared at him. “That was rhetorical.”

“Sorry.”

The hologram turned red, frowning faces and one star ratings making up the majority of reviews across the board.

“WHAT?” the director spat, fingers rapidly flying across the display screen as he searched for even a remotely positive review. “I THREW MONEY AND EXPLOSIONS AT THIS PRODUCTION!”

Bob glanced at the headline on his tablet, wincing at the bold letters proclaiming its disgust at the film. “Renowned director and film critic Buford van Stomm has declared Phineas and Ferb: The Movie a trashy pile of garbage except not really because that would be an insult to literal trashy piles of garbage. He also hates his portrayal as a heartless bully and lack of emotional complexity.”

“Please. He critiques anything that doesn’t have emotional complexity,” the director snorted.

“He also complained that you cast Candace as a blonde, didn’t give Ferb any screentime, and used an elm tree instead of an oak in the backyard.”

The director rolled his eyes. “He’s just one critic. Besides, we ran out of budget. Had to cut corners somehow.”

Bob pointed to the giant statue of the director outside. “Maybe if you hadn’t blown it on a gold statue of yourself…”

“But how else is the world supposed to know how great I am?” the director protested.

A giant humanoid robot blinked into existence, crushing the gold statue beneath its titanium-plated feet. There were two large, circular windows on each shoulder, a young boy with a control panel in each of them.

The director screamed in horror, yanking open the window and leaning out so much that Bob worried he would fall out.

“WHAT ARE YOU BOYS DOING?” he screeched.

“Nothing…” the boys chorused nervously. The boy on the left reached for a button, and they were gone in a flash of light.

“My statue! My beautiful, beautiful statue...” the director sobbed, rushing outside and kneeling among the broken gold pieces. He scooped up the gold and rubbed it against his face. “My precious metals…billions down the drain…just like that…” 

“I knew I should’ve majored in computer science,” Bob grumbled.


	24. Steamed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off the Steamed Hams skit from The Simpsons.

“Hello, Major Monogram!” Carl squeaked, immediately forgetting the pep talk he’d given himself in the bathroom mirror just a few minutes earlier. It was just a friendly lunch between coworkers. What could possibly…well, he wasn’t going to finish that thought, because it would just be inviting an onslaught of misfortune. “Ready for lunch?”

“It better be worth the trip, Carl,” Monogram said as he wiped the dirt off his shoes. “I’m missing a Stumbleberry Finkbat marathon for this.”

“Don’t worry, sir! It will be!” Carl exclaimed.

Monogram glanced at a large photo of Carl’s family on the wall. “All redheads, huh? I can’t even tell where you are in this thing.”

“And all unpaid interns,” Carl nodded, tapping a red blur near the bottom. “This is me. I was the one taking the photo and the camera was on a timer. I didn’t get into position fast enough. Anyway, this is cousin Carly, second cousin Carlos, twins Karlie and Karla. And-“

“Let me guess. His name is Carl.”

“Nope, that’s Crazy Steve. He wasn’t supposed to be invited. The family disowned him after the rubber duck incident,” Carl said.

One side of Monogram’s unibrow rose. “So all of you are unpaid interns?”

“Yes, why?”

“So if none of you are paid, how did you afford a house?” Monogram asked, sounding genuinely baffled.

Carl shrugged. “I don’t know, how do Agent P’s owners afford the materials for their projects?”

“Touché.”

Monogram took his seat at the dining table while Carl went into the kitchen, which was thankfully spared from Monogram’s scrutinizing view by a door. Carl noticed a thick gray cloud blanketing the far wall, right where his oven was. Luckily, Monogram didn’t seem to notice the plume of smoke rising from the oven. The smoke detectors still needed new batteries, and Carl groaned at his lack of foresight.

“It’s okay, Carl. Just play it cool. There’s probably something I can serve,” Carl muttered to himself. He shoved his hands into a pair of red mitts and opened the oven door. Smoke billowed into his face as he poked at the tray of blackened and burnt lamb chops, which now resembled lumps of coal instead of delicious meat.

Carl closed the oven. He cleaned his glasses with a cloth, keeping an eye on the door in case Monogram decided to check on him.

Well, the lamb was completely ruined. There went his plan to wow Monogram into adopting him with his amazingly seasoned lamb chops.

Then Carl noticed the Mr. Slushy Burger just outside the kitchen window. He stared at the Slushy the Clown statue, a Plan B forming in his mind.

“What if I were to purchase fast food and disguise it as my own cooking?” Carl smirked. “Not a bad plan, Carl. It’s a great use of the conveniently placed Mr. Slushy Burger location.”

He opened the window, grunting as his leg caught on the windowsill. As he tried to pull it free, there was a noise of disbelief behind him.

Carl froze as Monogram’s unibrow rose, clearly expecting an explanation for the delay.

o-o-o-o-o

_♪♪♪_ _Carl Karl, with his crazy explanations,_

_The Major who doesn’t pay interns for these aggravations,_

_When he hears Carl’s latest fabrications,_

_There’ll be no paycheck tonight!_ _♪♪♪_

_(Though there was never one to begin with…)_

o-o-o-o-o

“CARRRRRL!”

Carl jumped at Monogram’s shout, pulling his leg free with a painful twinge.

“Major!” Carl exclaimed, scrambling for an explanation. “I was just…stretching my calves on the windowsill! All that sitting around at a desk isn’t good for the legs, you know! Have to get my exercise in somehow!”

Monogram’s eyes flitted to the oven, which was still emitting a thick cloud of smoke. “Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, Carl?”

“Oh, that’s not smoke,” Carl said. “That’s steam from the steamed jams we’re having. Mmmm, steamed jams.”

“I didn’t know you could steam jam,” Monogram said.

“Only a very specific jam made from California grapes. It’s not advisable for strawberries or apricots.”

Monogram blinked, then turned around and muttered something about weird interns before exiting the kitchen.

Glad that Monogram had accepted his explanation for now, Carl practically threw himself out of the window in his haste to get to Mr. Slushy Burger.

o-o-o-o-o

“Major Monogram, I hope you’re ready for mouthwatering hamburgers!” Carl exclaimed. He’d already removed the wrapping from the burgers and hidden the evidence, serving the hamburgers on a silver tray instead.

“I thought we were having steamed jams,” Monogram said.

Carl chuckled and set the tray down. “Oh no, I said steamed lambs. That’s what I call hamburgers.”

“You call hamburgers ‘steamed lambs’,” Monogram said flatly.

“Yup, it’s a regional dialect,” Carl said, quickly reaching for a burger and taking a bite to disguise the nervous twitch of his lips.

There was a long pause as Monogram finally placed two burgers on his plate.

“Uh-huh. What region?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Um…Badgertown?”

“Really? I hid in Badgertown for a month while I was trying to escape from… _the Academy_.”

Monogram struck a dramatic pose, his eyes watering from a painful memory.

_“Francis, get back here! Daddy? I’ve told you a million times, I’m not your father. As for your punishment, you’ll be peeling potatoes until you graduate. I love you, Daddy.”_

Carl still didn’t understand where that dramatic musical score was coming from.

Monogram coughed. “Anyway, I’ve never heard anyone in Badgertown use the phrase ‘steamed lambs.’”

“Of course not. It sees more use in Weaseltown. You know, the northern suburbs. You just weren’t in the right area to hear it,” Carl said.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Carl relaxed from not having to come up with outlandish lies.

Monogram opened his hamburger and glanced at the patty. “You know, these hamburgers remind me of the ones at Mr. Slushy Burger. Pickles so green and meat so brown and all. We just need Slushy the Clown and it would be perfect.”

Carl nearly spat out his drink, swallowing hastily. “Oh no, those are Carlburgers! Just an old family recipe.”

Monogram’s unibrow rose again. “For steamed lambs?”

“Yup!”

“So you call them steamed lambs even though this is obviously grilled beef?” Monogram held the patty out to Carl, who felt a bead of sweat trickle down his neck.

It was getting uncomfortably warm.

Then Carl noticed a red glow around the door. “Excuse me for one second,” he said.

Monogram nodded and continued eating.

Carl took one step into the kitchen, saw the slowly spreading flames, and schooled his face into a casual expression as he walked out. He stood in front of the door, facing Monogram to minimize his view of the kitchen.

“Well that was wonderful,” Carl yawned casually. Hopefully he seemed casual. “I had a good time. Looks like it’s time to recharge ourselves in front of a screen before the next social call!” 

Monogram checked his watch as he stood up. “Yes, it’s almost 1:30. If I hurry I can be home in time to watch Stumbleberry Finkbat and the Cursed Gold of Philosopheria. That’s one of the best ones in the franchise, though I can’t understand why they decide to change it to Cursed Gold of Sorceria for the United States release. Great action, character development, on location filming and…great googly-moogly! What’s happening in there?”

Monogram pointed to the door in shock, and belatedly Carl realized he was nowhere near large enough to block the red glow along the top crack.

“Southern Lights,” Carl quickly said.

Monogram sputtered. “Southern Lights? With this temperate climate, in the middle of the day, localized entirely in a kitchen within the Northern hemisphere?”

“Yes!” Carl exclaimed, smiling so wide that his cheeks started to cramp.

“May I see it?” Monogram asked. 

“No.”

Carl led Monogram out like any good host would do, carefully concealing any smoldering embers from his view.

“Carl, you’re a weird intern with a lot of habits I’m afraid to ask about,” Monogram said as he stepped off the porch. “But I’ll admit that you steam a good lamb.”

It was the closest to a thank you that he’d ever get, and Carl couldn’t help but squeal in happiness.

Monogram turned to his car as the fire sirens increased in volume. “Oh, looks like there’s an emergency,” he commented. “Better go before they blockade the street.”

“CARL, WHY IS THE HOUSE ON FIRE?” 

“Just the Southern Lights, Carly!” Carl called back, giving Monogram a thumbs-up so he didn’t worry. Or worse, take the praise back.

Monogram got into his car and drove away. As soon as he was out of sight, Carl rushed back into the house to help Carly move their tech away from the fire.


	25. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve mostly been keeping these stories within canon, but I was just inspired by a post by woulddieforperrytheplatypus, where the Amnesia-inator is imperfect and everyone regains their memories of the 2nd Dimension and keep it low-key for Perry’s sake so he won’t be relocated. It’s soft and I love it.

Perry the Platypus was asleep on his couch. A brand new, sleek purple couch that came with cupholders.

_Cupholders._

It was an apology for peeing on the old sofa, and Perry the Platypus really didn’t have to go the extra mile like that, but Heinz couldn’t muster up the energy to hold a grudge. 

Not when Perry the Platypus just wanted his kids to be safe and sound. Heinz knew the feeling. The first and only time Vanessa had been stung by a bee, she was at school and Heinz hadn’t been with her on what must’ve been a terrifying, suffocating ambulance ride to the nearest hospital.

She was a strong girl and pulled through just fine, seeming more annoyed with Heinz hovering over her bed and disturbing her sleep than she was at nearly dying.

But Heinz knew the helplessness that came with frightening ordeals, the terror of nearly losing a kid, and the guilt that gnawed away at his heart when he could’ve helped if he’d just done something differently yet couldn’t.

Perry curled into himself, a slight growl escaping him as he clutched his abdomen. It was love-fueled adrenaline that enabled Perry to save him, a teenage girl, and two boys from certain death by lava or monster, Heinz realized. Now that the danger had passed, it was just an aching, invisible wound from a steel band.

But Heinz could manage it. Thank badness for that.

And when Perry woke from his nap, he found a warm pack and a cup of his favorite tea waiting for him.

o-o-o-o-o

Candace liked to think she was mature. She was the first of her friends to master parallel parking, a feat that even her wonderful Jeremy couldn’t replicate. She knew how to play an absurd number of musical instruments. And she could navigate the route to Googolplex Mall while blindfolded and walking backwards.

Then she met her dimensional counterpart and realized the price for true maturity.

A world where she’d have to cast aside Ducky Momo, shopping with Stacy, and fantasies of marriage for the sake of protecting her family. Where her busting obsession had exploded into a life of constant danger and survival. Where there was no time to be a teenager.

Candace toed the line between kid and adult constantly, but at least she had a choice. Being thrown into constant adult-ing? She’d never be able to handle it.

She sank into her pink comforter, her hand brushing against teal fur (or was it feathers?). Why her brothers were okay with teal fur in their beds, especially during shedding season, she would never understand. A week ago, she would’ve tossed Perry out of her room on sight.

But now? She knew Perry loved her brothers too. He’d look out for them when she couldn’t. At least she could leave busting evil scientists to him, and she could focus her efforts on the boys.

Phineas and Ferb gave them a drive to accomplish their goals, no matter how impossible it seemed. She’d never thought she’d respect the meatbrick, but the summer had taught her that everything was possible. 

Still, they really should maintain some animosity for appearance’s sake. 

She grabbed her journal off a side table. “I’m going to plan my wedding cake now. I was thinking a classic chocolate for the first tier, with frosting roses dotting the sides in alternating white and red. Second tier would be strawberry with edible pink ribbons and- meatbrick, do you have to put your slimy foot next to my phone?”

Perry’s vacant gaze remained, but he settled against the comforter and ‘krrred’.

She’d have to ask Phineas if Perry made different noises depending on his mood, but she could’ve sworn he sounded happy.

o-o-o-o-o

Perry sometimes kicked and grunted in his sleep. But it only happened if nobody was touching him. But now it was constant. Perry was no longer careful about disturbing their sleep when he switched beds.

They could tell from his pawsteps and his slight jerky movements.

Perry was afraid.

Maybe it was just the tree branches scratching against the fence.

If Perry were a normal platypus, they might’ve believed it. But he wasn’t a normal platypus. He was a secret agent, and secret agents were cool and brave. 

Secret agents could still be afraid. And despite the lifestyle, they could still love.

Then they found a solution in the Perry s’more. Because s’mores were best on a summer night, surrounded by people they loved most. With Phineas and Ferb as the graham crackers and Perry squished between them like a teal marshmallow, they slumbered peacefully.

And Perry knew he was loved.


	26. Dynasty Part 1: Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place in Doof Dynasty time period. Artistic liberties have been taken, and by that I mean a LOT of artistic liberties have been taken. Also, I really wanted to write something with Isabella as the protagonist and this seemed like a good place to do it. Since this turned out much longer than I expected, I decided to just divide it into two parts.

“Sir! Our defenses have been compromised!” General Carl shouted, rushing into the royal palanquin and collapsing into a dead faint in front of Regent Monogram.

Princess Isabella moved her ink pot before Carl’s head could smash into it. Sensing that the calligraphy lesson was over, she carefully put the materials away while Monogram waved a jar of incense in Carl’s face.

“General, don’t faint until you’ve given us the necessary exposition first,” Monogram scolded. “And especially not in front of the Princess.”

Carl nodded weakly. “Of course, sir. My apologies, Princess.”

“Accepted,” Isabella said. “What’s this about our defenses being compromised? Surely Master Perry wouldn’t leave our country unprotected.”

“Princess, are you sure you want to hear about this?” Monogram coughed. “You’re not much more than a ceremonial figurehead until you’re of age. Until then, it’s perfectly acceptable if you want to lavish in luxury and leave the worrying to the professionals.”

Isabella fixed him with an icy glare. “Regent, I respect you and your administrative decisions. But I’ve fought Doofus Khan in a terracotta warrior before and if you’ll pardon my unprincess-like language, kicked his sorry butt back to the steppes of Mongolia. Those commoner boys fought for the Tri-Province Area and me when they were hardly trained, and I intend to do the same.”

“How old is she again?” Carl whispered to Monogram.

“Older than a child but younger than a teenager,” Monogram whispered back. “It’s the bow, I think. Throws everyone off.”

“Your report, General,” Isabella demanded.

Carl stood up and bowed his head. “The commoner boys who saved the Tri-Province Area were building the northern tower of the Great Wall near the Large Bamboo Forest of Largeness when Doofus Khan kidnapped them. Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, which is notoriously difficult for even the most fleetfooted messengers to access. Doofus Khan left this scroll, most likely to demoralize us before swooping in for his conquest.”

He handed the scroll to Monogram, who unfolded it and grimaced at the ink picture of Doofus Khan sticking his tongue out with a finger above his lip in an obvious mockery of his mustache.

“This means war,” Monogram huffed. “My mustache and beard combo is highly fashionable in this day and age.”

“There’s a message at the bottom,” Isabella said, placing her finger in the blank space to avoid smudging the ink.

_Mwahahaha! If you want the boys back (lousy defense system by the way, do you guys really not have a militia?), send Princess Isabella to my Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness! I wanted to call it the Inescapable Fortress of Doom, but my new scribe is defensive of his names. Just head due north. That’s all the directions I’m giving you. Don’t worry, you can’t miss it. Or do worry, cause I’ll be taking the Tri-Province Area soon enough! Have a bad day!_

_Wishing you all the misery in the world,_

_Doofus Khan_

_“_ Without Princess Isabella’s undeniable charm, our country will fall to ruin!” Monogram groaned. “We can’t abide by this fiend’s terms!”

“You aren’t stopping me,” Isabella declared. “I’m going to save my friends and the Tri-Province Area!”

“But-“

Isabella held up her hand to silence him. “I appreciate your concern. But I can take care of myself.”

“Very well,” Monogram sighed, the scroll dropping out of his hands with a dull thud.

Carl raised a hand sheepishly. “Sir, I believe I have the solution. Lady Firesong has trained a squad of preteen girls in the art of bodyguarding, self-defense, survival, pottery, gator wrestling, and decorative cupcake making. This would make for an excellent training exercise for the girls. I’ll send her a message after I’m finished fainting for the second time.”

Then he fainted again.

“I still think we’re doomed,” Monogram muttered.

o-o-o-o-o

The training complex wasn’t anything grand, especially compared to what Isabella was used to, but they had enough equipment that would make an entire Roman army jealous. Many silkworm cocoons lined each plant in the garden, and Isabella plucked one off the leaf out of curiosity, slipping it into her flowing sleeves while Monogram’s back was turned. He led them through a lantern-lit path until they reached an ancient portrait, which depicted an elderly woman in a flowing purple robe.

To Isabella’s surprise, the portrait bowed.

“I am Lady Firesong. Welcome, Princess Isabella. I’ve received word that you wish to perform a rescue mission. The girls who volunteered to accompany you are highly skilled in many areas. I hope you’ll find their company adequate,” the elderly woman rasped, then turned and clapped her hands. “Alright, girls! The Firesong anthem for the Princess, just like in rehearsal! One, two, three!”

Five girls in matching orange robes hurried into formation, singing the cutest song Isabella had ever heard in her life.

“- _and it’s not too terribly long!”_ they chorused with a banner of the Tri-Province Area in the background.

Isabella applauded, much to the girls’ delight. Monogram didn’t look too impressed though. “Yes, yes, that was great. Princess, will you be okay?”

“Failure is not an option,” Isabella replied.

“Good,” Major Monogram said, reaching into his robe and pulling out a ribbon-tied scroll. “Deliver this scroll to Doofus Khan, will you? I, uh, have a very important message for him.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed, taking the scroll.

Monogram nodded in approval and left, confused at the angry looks that were thrown his way when he still didn’t acknowledge their song.

“Well, it looks like my work here is done!” Lady Firesong exclaimed, settling back into her chair. “I am so glad I can rest here and let children handle matters of national security.”

o-o-o-o-o

Isabella’s clothing was custom-made by a tailor who exclusively served royalty, so creating her own Firesong robe was an entirely new experience for her. If Regent Monogram could see her filling baskets of cocoons, he would be horrified at the manual labor that a princess of her caliber certainly shouldn’t be doing.

But if a princess could operate a terracotta soldier, then she could easily create a robe out of raw silk. Besides, it was a great opportunity for learning about the other girls. She committed Gretchen, Holly, Katie, Ginger, Millie, and Adyson’s names to memory, only mixing them up twice when she was too busy taking the silk threads out of the boiling water.

“-and that’s why Lady Firesong trains us from birth. As a result, none of us really know who our parents are, but the rewards are worth it,” Gretchen explained as Isabella removed the finished robe from the loom. “I’ve always been told I’m more of a second in command type anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Isabella asked, stepping behind a bamboo screen to try on the robe. It was shorter than what she was used to, just barely reaching her knees, but much less restricting than her royal clothes. “I wouldn’t want to take your leader position just because I’m a princess.”

Gretchen smiled. “No, I can give orders, but I lack the charisma of a natural born leader. I should know. I’ve been trying for the Charisma Patch for years.”

“Well, I can always teach you,” Isabella offered. “It takes skill, confidence, and taking advantage of our naturally cute dispositions, but I’m sure you’d be able to learn!”

“Thanks! So, what do you think of the uniform?” Gretchen asked.

Isabella pushed the screen aside, twirling in her Firesong robe. “It may look delicate, but it’s durable,” Isabella said. “Also, I never knew I pulled orange off this well. I’ll have to ask my tailor for more clothing in this shade.”

Gretchen nodded, then poked her head in the doorway. “Katie! Are the accessories ready yet?”

“Right here!” Katie shouted, hurrying into the room and handing an orange sash and hairbow to Isabella.

“These sashes are the most important part of the Firesong uniform,” Gretchen said, pointing to her own sash. Unlike Isabella’s, hers was decorated with several colorful patches. “They’re proof of our accomplishments and fairly useful in a fight. Plus, we pooled our silver pieces for a hairbow. We just thought it’d look good on you.”

“Aw, you girls didn’t have to go that far!” Isabella exclaimed as she put on the sash. She let Ginger tie the hairbow, since the girl seemed enthusiastic about touching her hair.

Now that she couldn’t be recognized as a royal, they were ready for action.

“Storm the base!” Adyson shouted.

“Bring lots and lots of weaponry!” Holly suggested, pounding her fist into her hand.

It seemed they didn’t have much of a head for strategy. But Isabella supposed that was what a leader was for.

“Our main objective is infiltrating Doofus Khan’s fortress and rescuing the boys so they can complete the Great Wall,” Isabella said, and silence fell instantly. “But we need to pack only necessary items because a giant desert lies to the north, and we’ll need to cross it in order to get there. In other words, no more than what a two-humped camel can carry.”

“Katie, fill the water flasks!” Gretchen barked. “Ginger and Adyson, grab the food! Make sure you include lots of ox jerky!”

Adyson groaned. “I really hate ox jerky...”

“It’s a start, but there’s a necessary stop we should take before heading north,” Isabella continued. “Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, so we’ll need to go there first and get his help. What do you girls think?”

“Let’s go!” Millie exclaimed. The other girls echoed her battle cry.

Ginger held up a lute. “I’m in charge of the travel music!”

The other girls glanced at her.

“What? Travel music and a montage are necessary items too!”

o-o-o-o-o

Ginger’s idea of travel music was playing ‘You Snuck Your Way Right into My Rice Paddy’ over and over again. Sure, everyone liked the song, but after two hundred repeats without taking requests from anyone else?

Not so much.

Everyone was relieved when the roar of the waterfall drowned out her lute. Unfortunately, it drowned out everything else too.

Relying on finger signals and other forms of non-verbal communication, they made their way through the lush undergrowth. Millie and Holly used sharp rocks to mark every tree they passed to make the return journey faster, Katie scouted ahead, and Gretchen and Ginger dragged Adyson between them, who was still recovering from a nasty fall in a ditch.

When they finally arrived at the riverbank, they found Master Perry meditating underneath a pounding waterfall.

“Master Perry! The Tri-Province Area is in trouble again!” Isabella shouted, but couldn’t make herself heard above the waterfall. 

Everyone except Adyson added their voices, shouting as loud as they could, but neither the platypus or panda were paying attention.

Isabella silenced them with a wave of her hand. It just wasn’t enough of a hook to nab Master Perry’s full attention. They needed something more.

Isabella inhaled and screeched in the deepest voice she could manage.

“YOUR FORMER STUDENTS ARE IMPRISONED IN DOOFUS KHAN’S FORTRESS!”

Master Perry’s eyes snapped open. He dove into the water, resurfacing with a topknot and traditional warrior’s outfit.

The group went back to the main road so they could talk without screaming over the waterfall. Adyson muttered something about salamanders, her head lolling against Gretchen’s shoulder as her sandals dragged against the leafy soil.

“How did you do that?” Holly demanded, her hair still frizzed from the waterfall.

“I’m excellent at breath control. Plus it’s great for scaring Regent Monogram,” Isabella said. She turned to Master Perry and bowed respectfully. “The Firesong Girls and I wish to accompany you to the fortress. It is my duty as a princess to protect my subjects, and I cannot do that from a palanquin. You’ve trained the boys well back when they rescued me from Doofus Khan’s evil clutches. I will repay the favor.”

Master Perry stared off into space, several vibrations rippling through the air.

“Is that an attack?” Gretchen asked. She pulled off her sash, looping it around her hand and twirling the other end in the air.

“Stand down,” Isabella ordered. “He’s having a flashback. Just wait it out.”

Gretchen reluctantly obeyed.

A few seconds later, the rippling dissipated and Master Perry bowed.

“He’s done, hopefully,” Isabella said. “Phineas mentioned he has a habit of doing this. So, guess we’re heading due north now. Do any of you know where we can rent some camels?” 

Master Perry gestured for everyone to follow him.

“Who’s ready for more travel music?” Ginger asked. She tuned her lute, smiling brightly as she strummed a chord. 

“NO!” Millie and Holly screamed.

“Hehe, the salamanders are doing opera,” Adyson giggled.

o-o-o-o-o

Turns out Master Perry knew a faster way to transport them to the fortress. One that involved a massive red dragon that resembled the ones at Chinese New Year (but since it’s China, they just call it New Year), but much larger, more metallic, and without relying on people’s feet for an energy source.

“Master Perry! So good to see ya! Finally come out of retirement, I see! ‘Bout time! Never approved of you giving up on saving China after one little incident,” a jovial woman exclaimed. “And you brought an entourage this time! Name’s Glenda, so don’t forget it! What brings you girls to the Dragon Train?”

“We’re going to Doofus Khan’s fortress to rescue our friends. But isn’t this a little advanced for 1542?” Isabella asked, pointing to the giant dragon that Glenda called a ‘train’. 

“Yes, yes it is,” Glenda said, her eyes widening. “Did you say Doofus Khan’s fortress, girlie? Don’t you know that place is inescapable? I deliver supplies there myself. Don’t look at me like that, a woman’s gotta make her living somehow.”

“It’s only inescapable because nobody’s ever tried it before. It’ll be completely escapable by the time we’re finished,” Isabella said.

Glenda slapped her knee and laughed. “I like your gumption, girlie! Climb aboard! It’ll take twenty minutes to get there, so just kick back and let the Dragon Train do the work.”

“Twenty minutes? That’s so fast! And I was planning on a day and a half’s hike,” Gretchen said.

“It’s coal-powered,” Glenda shrugged. “Convenient for us, but makes a heck of a mess in the air. Ah, well. Problem for a future century.”

“I’m game!” Adyson shouted, snapping out of her salamander delirium. “Never been on a train before, but who cares? Better than relying on ox jerky!”

“Man, I would’ve packed my mahjong board if I’d known we’d be taking a train,” Holly grumbled.

Isabella turned to the north, signaling Gretchen and Ginger to wave their fans behind her and produce a dramatic wind. “My name is Princess Isabella, and we’re going to defeat you once and for all, Doofus Khan! You won’t pillaging anything by the time we’re through with you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They took a spaceship to another planet in 1542. A train is completely reasonable by comparison.


	27. Dynasty Part 2: Fortress

“My favorite jewel is jade, my dog’s name is Pinky, and my hobby is feeding ducks in the palace garden,” Isabella said.

Silence reigned while the girls struggled to figure out her lie.

“I think it’s the hobby. You seem like a calligraphy type to me,” Millie said.

Holly shook her head. “She can do both. I’d like to say the dog is the lie, but I didn’t notice any tells in her body language.”

Isabella smiled serenely as the girls debated among themselves. She kept her knees folded under her, humming cheerfully to herself. What kind of hereditary monarch would she be if she didn’t know to lie convincingly?

There was a metallic thump above them, and Master Perry gestured for silence. The girls assumed a defensive position with their sashes at the ready. Isabella quickly copied their stance, though they’d formed a defensive perimeter around her so she wasn’t in immediate danger just yet.

When the thump sounded again, Master Perry flicked an open fan into each palm and pointed them towards an open window. He held his stance as the sound of pattering feet overwhelmed the clack of the Dragon Train’s wheels.

Then there was silence, only broken by Adyson’s sneeze.

“ _SPIIIIIIIIICCCYYYY_!”

Dozens of lumpy brown gremlins swarmed in through the windows, screaming in raspy tones about invaders and something called a ‘taco’. Master Perry lashed out with his fans and tail, knocking the nearest ones into their comrades, but they didn’t stay down for long.

“Hold your position, girls!” Gretchen shouted. Her sash wrapped around the nearest gremlins, who screeched as it was unceremoniously flung about like a makeshift mace.

Holly and Ginger pressed against Isabella, kicking away anyone who was foolhardy enough to attack a princess. Isabella slammed her sandal against a gremlin’s beady eyes, stunning it long enough for Holly to snatch it up and throw it into the horde.

Adyson climbed onto a seat cushion, leaping onto the back of an unusually large gremlin who was about to charge Katie. Katie shouted her thanks and rushed to help Millie fend off several bite-happy gremlins.

But for every gremlin they pushed back, three more took its place. There were too many to fight effectively.

Master Perry hurled a gremlin against the wall, nodding in grim satisfaction when it sat there and rubbed its head instead of coming back for more. His focus snapped to Gretchen, who was having trouble pulling her sash free from a gremlin’s claws.

Then Isabella noticed the gremlin look up, shriek, and edge away from the oil lamp hanging above its head. In fact, the gremlins all seemed to be avoiding the oil lamps as much as possible. Well, its head was also its entire body, but she didn’t have time to think about the weird proportions.

The oil lamp! They were scared of the oil lamp! But everyone was too preoccupied to notice, so Isabella knew she had to take matters into her own hands. They couldn’t tire themselves out before storming the fortress!

When Holly and Ginger shifted their positions, Isabella took her chance and darted between them, ignoring their protests as she vaulted onto the seat and unhooked the oil lamp from the wall. Several of the gremlins clambered onto the seat after her, but stopped short when she held the lamp in their direction. They backed away, hissing furiously.

“Everybody, stop!” Isabella yelled, holding up the lamp. She held onto the seat for balance as the Dragon Train hit a particularly large bump.

The gremlins ceased immediately. Gretchen’s sash was released and she tumbled back. Master Perry steadied her so she didn’t lose her balance completely.

“That’s better,” Isabella said, lowering the lamp but holding it near her hip in case the gremlins tried anything. “My name is Princess Isabella of the Tri-Province Area. I don’t want to harm any of you, but I’m also not afraid to use this lamp if necessary. Now, will you send your leader or a representative to come forward so we can talk things out like civilized beings?”

The gremlins pointed to the largest among their group, who was being held down by Katie and Adyson.

“Release him, girls,” Isabella ordered.

Reluctantly, the Firesong Girls let him go. Isabella sat down, patting the space next to her invitingly. The large gremlin sauntered up to the seat, barking at the closest minion to throw himself down so he could be used as a stepstool.

“Your name and status?” Isabella asked.

“Supreme Potato!” the gremlin rasped.

“And your reason for attacking us?” Isabella gestured for the Firesong Girls to stand down, especially Gretchen, who looked ready to throw the gremlins out the nearest window.

The Supreme Potato hissed. “Invaders!”

His accusation was chorused by the other gremlins, who shook their fists until Master Perry pointed to another oil lamp within his reach. They fell back with a whimper.

“We invaded your territory?”

“Spicy!” the Supreme Potato shrieked, which didn’t answer her question. But it appeared to be the resounding battle cry among the gremlins.

“On behalf of my group, I apologize for invading your territory, but I assure you that we wouldn’t do it without good reason, nor do we have any quarrel with you. You see, our friends were kidnapped by Doofus Khan and are being held at his supposedly inescapable fortress. I can only assume his Mongol army will be there too. We’re on a rescue mission and would like safe passage for this trip and the return journey.”

“Mongol smash! Mongol eat Tater Tot!” the Supreme Potato snarled.

“Tater Tot!” a gremlin wailed. Several others patted his back in sympathy.

The Supreme Potato pounded his fists together. “Potato help Cessa! Spicy!”

“SPICY!” the gremlins screamed, stomping their feet against the metallic floor.

“Everyone, we’re approaching the Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness!” Millie yelled from a window on the far side of the compartment. “There’s no way we could possibly miss it! The place is huge!” 

Gretchen tapped Isabella on the shoulder, leaning in with an unsure look on her face. “Does this mean we’re allies…with gremlins?”

Isabella nodded firmly. “There’s bound to be lots of soldiers. The gremlins can keep them all occupied.” She turned to the Supreme Potato. “We’ll ally with you for today. Would you guys mind keeping the army busy?”

The Supreme Potato spat into his hand, coating it with saliva and white mush. Then he held it out to her with a wide grin.

“Shake!” he yelled.

Isabella wrinkled her nose, gripping the Supreme Potato’s wrist and shaking firmly. The gremlins cheered, but the Firesong Girls and Master Perry looked rather nauseous.

“First order of business,” Isabella declared, holding her hand away from her body. It smelled even worse than it looked. “A canteen of water to wash…whatever this stuff is.”

o-o-o-o-o

The Dragon Train stopped just short of the giant drawbridge and moat, ruining Isabella’s first idea of waiting until dark and attacking while everyone was asleep.

The Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness was enormous and sprawled out as far as the eye could see, though Isabella lived in a palace, so she was used to everything being enormous. The Firesong Girls oohed and ahhed at the many watchtowers that lined the outer walls. Guards traded grunts as they exchanged shifts, the gremlins growling and punching the air in anticipation.

“Hey, guys!” Glenda poked her head in, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. “This is the farthest the Dragon Train can go. I’ll be busy unloading supplies and taking inventory, so y’all have fun storming the fortress, okay? Just come back when you’re through and I’ll take ya home!”

“Thanks, Glenda!” Isabella exclaimed.

“Anything for you, girlie,” Glenda called over her shoulder. She shut and locked the door behind her.

Master Perry kept everyone from rushing out the doors of the Dragon Train, positioning himself at the front to make sure no guard entered their compartment.

“First, we need to get in. Then figure out where the boys are imprisoned,” Gretchen said, tracing a pattern on the floor.

“I want to go after Doofus Khan directly. When he kidnapped me, he laid a lot of traps. I expect he’ll do the same thing here,” Isabella said. 

Every Firesong Girl except Adyson nodded their agreement. “But you’re the princess! What if something happened to you?” Adyson protested.

Master Perry chattered and laid on his hand on Isabella’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Adyson. Master Perry will ensure my safety,” Isabella assured her. “And besides, what do you think Doofus Khan is for when I encounter his traps?”

The Firesong Girls burst into laughter, even Adyson, who still seemed worried but decided to trust Isabella’s word.

“And the gremlins can do…whatever gremlins do when they raid fortresses,” Gretchen said. “I don’t think they’ll be following orders any time soon.”

“Never!” the Supreme Potato screamed.

Isabella suspected the only reason the gremlins hadn’t charged off immediately was due to the raised drawbridge. If they wanted access to the fortress, then tricking the Mongol army into lowering their guard would be their first step.

Ginger raised her hand, drawing all attention to her. “Nobody can resist a Firesong Girl cupcake! We’ll just employ persuasive techniques!”

Fortunately, the Supreme Potato agreed to hold his forces back until the Firesong Girls knocked out the guards and seized control of the drawbridge. But after that, all bets were off.

“Isabella and Master Perry, you’ll slip in behind the gremlins, find Doofus Khan, and free the boys,” Gretchen said. “The rest of us will keep your path clear.”

Isabella nodded, and Master Perry gave a thumbs up.

Millie found several empty boxes under a seat and convinced some of the more patient but no less battle-hungry gremlins to hide in them so the Mongol army would really just believe they were a group of dedicated and innocent Firesong Girls. Except for Isabella, each girl stepped off the train with a boxful of gremlins.

Plastering on their best cute faces, the Firesong Girls marched up to the moat.

“Hello, would you like to buy some Firesong Girl cupcakes?” Gretchen shouted at the nearest guard, who peered down curiously.

“Freshly baked!” Millie exclaimed.

“Comes in several flavors! Your choice of low calorie!” Holly added.

Katie smiled as the guard stroked his beard in thought. “No artificial flavors or preservatives!”

That seemed to do the trick. The guard’s eyes lit up and he excitedly pointed out the Firesong Girls to his friend, who started shouting for the drawbridge to be lowered.

“CUPCAKES!” he roared, the call being taken up by every guard in the vicinity, even the ones who were probably meant to be supervisors.

The drawbridge lowered with a heavy thud, several men panting from turning the heavy crank, though they cheered up at the sight of the boxes. Several guards rushed across the drawbridge, and Gretchen negotiated a slightly high but reasonable price with their leader.

Isabella made a mental note to commend Gretchen’s charisma to Lady Firesong. Really, the girl had been working towards that patch for years. She’d learned a lot from experience and Isabella’s quick suggestions on perfecting her techniques.

The Firesong Girls waved their new silver pieces in the air triumphantly as the guards hurried back to the fortress with the boxes in hand.

They didn’t have the chance to raise the drawbridge.

One guard eagerly opened a box, only for his face to be mauled by an irate potato gremlin. The rest of the gremlins tore the boxes apart, rushing at the surprised guards, who didn’t even have their weapons on them. The first batch of Mongols were going down quickly, and the Firesong Girls seized control of the drawbridge crank to make sure nobody could raise it before their timely escape.

“FOR TATER TOT AND SPICY TACOS!” the Supreme Potato screamed, leading the rest of the gremlins into the fortress and chomping on some poor guy’s mustache.

“SPICY! SPICY! SPICY!” the gremlins chanted.

“FRENCH FRY!” the Mongols shouted back.

“FRENCH FRY NO SPICY!”

Seizing their chance, Isabella and Master Perry crossed the drawbridge and hid behind a stack of crates. Their presence was unnoticed through all the chaos.

“So much for a formidable army,” Isabella whispered as Adyson and Holly wrapped their sashes around the legs of a guard and toppled him. The Firesong Girls and gremlins had the situation well in hand, as Isabella expected.

“Seriously, guys?” a high-pitched voice protested above the fray. “As your leader, I get first pick of any Firesong cupcakes that come to the drawbridge. It’s literally written in your contracts!”

Isabella and Master Perry exchanged a glance, poking their heads around the crates.

“Doofus Khan!” Isabella exclaimed quietly, eyes narrowing at the sight of the Mongol leader. He had a new fur cape, and his beard was much scruffier than last time, but she would recognize him anywhere. Master Perry placed his hand on her arm, a silent warning against acting too soon.

“Sir, we’re under attack!” a guard cried, swatting a gremlin aside.

But Doofus Khan didn’t notice, too busy lamenting the lack of Firesong cupcakes and what they did to his waistline as he passed by several Mongol soldiers being dogpiled by Gretchen, Millie, and gremlins of varying sizes. He disappeared into the open doorway of a nearby tower.

When the path was clear, Isabella and Master Perry rushed after him.

“-so hard to find good help these days. But does Roger Khan have these problems? Of course not. I bet his army would let him have first pick of Firesong cupcakes. Guess this is why I got command of the outpost nobody wanted.”

Isabella and Master Perry followed him through the stone hallway, close enough to hear him but keeping their distance so he wasn’t alerted to their presence just yet. Their footsteps echoed along the floors, but Doofus Khan wasn’t known for his alertness, so it didn’t concern them.

The hallway opened into a large chamber filled with animal hides, a few banners, and not much else except dampness and dull gray. It was pretty drab. Doofus Khan really needed to hire a better interior designer.

Doofus Khan sighed, taking his helmet off and running a hand through his messy hair. “Maybe gloating to my prisoners will cheer me up.” He sniffed the air, his nose poking into his fur cape for a brief moment. Then he coughed and wafted the air in front of his face. “And do some laundry later. Animal fur is way too stinky sometimes, but I gotta make sacrifices for the evil aesthetic.”

He took one step, paling when the stone sank underneath his boot. A giant fist instantly slammed him against the wall, a cloud of dust billowing from the Doofus Khan-shaped hole in the stone.

“I always…forget that’s…” Doofus Khan stumbled out of the hole, swaying into the path of a red laser beam.

Isabella and Master Perry ducked behind a corner while the animal heads fired laser beams at Doofus Khan.

“Yes, I think I’ll have the double mocha with a side of dumplings, Lisa,” Doofus Khan muttered, his clothing heavily charred. He collapsed, something small and golden glistening around his neck.

“The key!” Isabella gasped. Before Master Perry could stop her, she rushed over to Doofus Khan, weaving around a rain of arrows and barely avoiding the bite of an angry camel. “Come on, Master Perry! We’re saving the Tri-Province Area!”

She ripped the key from its string just as Master Perry chattered a warning. Isabella jumped back, her eyes widening when Doofus Khan regained consciousness much sooner than she expected. She quickly stored the key in her sleeve. If Doofus Khan couldn’t notice his own traps, she would just have to hope he didn’t notice the missing key.

The would-be conqueror rubbed his head. “Ow, what’s a Firesong Girl doing in here? Don’t they have a rule against trespassing in your organization?”

Isabella glared at him. All this effort, and he didn’t have the gall to recognize her? And don’t even get her started on the whole trespassing thing. For crying out loud, he was the one trespassing on her rightful inheritance!

“It’s Isabella,” she said, placing a hand behind her back to stop Master Perry from jumping in. Neither of them knew where the boys were kept. If anything, this would work in their favor.

Doofus Khan stood up, dusting off his clothes. “Look Isabella the Firesong Girl, if you don’t have any cupcakes to sell, do you mind leaving? I have some very important evil gloating I’d like to get to.”

“Will this help?” Isabella asked. She quickly replaced her orange hairbow with a purple one.

“Princess Isabella!” Doofus Khan shrieked. Then he tried to compose himself, trying to appear like a dignified Mongol leader. Of course, it was a little difficult when he was still smoking from his own laser beams. “I mean, of course I knew it was you all along! Thanks for falling into my trap, Princess!”

The floor opened behind Doofus Khan.

“Actually, it looks like you’re gonna fall into your own,” Isabella said. 

Doofus Khan scrabbled at the edge of the gaping pitfall before managing to haul himself up.

“Man, I really should label these traps. Or invest in some crash test dummies. But then I’d have to buy those little stickers and I just don’t feel like going to the market most of the time cause it stinks of camel and weird perfume…” Doofus Khan grumbled. “Anyway, there’s a dungeon cell with your name on it, Princess. Not literally, cause I don’t have those labeled, but metaphorically speaking. And with you imprisoned and the Great Wall unfinished, Regent Monogram and the Tri-Province Area will be completely helpless! I’ll install my own Doof Dynasty! Have my own pottery line! Take that, Roger Khan! Who’s the loser who gets picked last in every equine kickball game now?”

Isabella rolled her eyes. Clearly, he had some issues.

o-o-o-o-o

Three giant hammers, one hungry tiger, and too many flaming kickballs later, Isabella and Doofus Khan finally made it to the dungeon. Part of his fur cape was still on fire, and Isabella actually felt grateful for the dungeon cell because it meant getting away from that awful animal stench.

“Alright, in you go. Enjoy imprisonment with your new skeleton buddy,” Doofus Khan said, shoving her into a cell across the room from the boys she was trying to rescue. The triangle headed one seemed especially worried, narrowing his eyes at Doofus Khan. “You like him? I got dozens.”

Doofus Khan swept his arm across the room, indicating the broken skeletal pieces scattered across the dungeon. “Yeah, they’re leftovers from my bachelor party. The merchant wouldn’t take them back,” he sighed, but cheered up quickly upon seeing the state of the boys. “And just how are my other prisoners?”

“You won’t get away this, Doofus Khan!” Phineas shouted. “Princess, are you hurt? What’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten?”

Doofus Khan rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, I didn’t go through the trouble of kidnapping you just to hear all these cliché lines, kid.”

“Don’t worry!” Isabella called. “I’m alright!”

She gingerly pushed the skeleton away from her cot.

“One thousand five hundred twenty-six, one thousand five hundred twenty-seven,” Baljeet grunted, shoving a tiny spoon into the floor and tossing a meager amount of soil over his shoulder. “Buford, you’re supposed to be helping!”

Buford shrugged. “I’m supervising!”

“Hey, more despair and less escaping back there!” Doofus Khan yelled. Then he glanced at Ferb, whose face betrayed no emotion as he supported his brother. “How are you holding up?”

Ferb blinked.

“He won’t use his speaking line quota for a power-hungry dictator,” Phineas retorted.

“Suit yourself,” Doofus Khan said, turning to the only other guy in the dungeon. “What about you, scribe? If you need anything, I’m not getting it.”

“I’m hungry. I could use something to eat. Need food. Starving,” the scribe rasped from his place on the floor, a hand reaching up weakly.

“Eh, you can hold on until dinner. There’s still two hours before you’re due for stale rice.”

“Feed me…” the scribe moaned, but his cries were ignored,

“Without the precious princess and saviors of the Tri-Province Area, Regent Monogram will have no choice but to surrender. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Doofus Khan cackled.

There was a flash of movement by the staircase, and the next moment Doofus Khan was extracting himself from a skeleton’s ribcage. “What the?” he gasped, almost poking out his eye as he clumsily got to his feet.

Master Perry chattered, beckoning Doofus Khan closer with a deliberate wave of his finger.

“Ancient warrior Perry the Platypus!” Doofus Khan’s eyes narrowed. “You look like you could use a little humerus in your life!” He ripped an arm bone from the skeleton, launching himself at Master Perry.

“That is an ulna!” Baljeet shouted.

“Don’t ruin my battle puns!” Doofus Khan retorted, the distraction allowing Master Perry to slap him in the face multiple times. 

While Master Perry engaged Doofus Khan in battle, Isabella used the opportunity to slip through a large space between the bars of her cell. Good thing conquerors weren’t known for their superior planning skills.

Isabella flicked her arm, the key tumbling out of her sleeve and into her hand. For some reason, Phineas’ face was the same shade of red as his hair. She decided not to question it though.

Phineas, Ferb, Baljeet, and Buford burst out of the cell the moment the door unlocked. Even the scribe was behind them, though it didn’t look like it would take much to knock him off his feet.

“No! They’re escaping!” Doofus Khan screamed, swiping at the air ineffectually with one arm while Master Perry held the other firmly behind his back. “Oh man, even the scribe! Now how am I supposed to lie about my taxes? It’ll take forever just to find a new guy!”

“You’ll never get my kingdom, Doofus Khan!” Isabella said. “Not as long as we have anything to say about it! Oh, I almost forgot. Regent Monogram wanted me to deliver this.”

She pressed the scroll into his hand and joined the boys at the staircase, who high-fived her for a rescue job well done. 

Master Perry released Doofus Khan, allowing him to sit up. Doofus Khan unfurled the scroll halfway before knitting his eyebrows in disgust.

“This picture looks nothing like me! Nobody’s worn that mustache and beard combo since the Han Dynasty! At least mine is modern! Well, modern for 1542. Depends on where you are in space-time I guess,” Doofus Khan complained, then looked at Master Perry, who was standing next to a rock labeled ‘load-bearing stone’.

Master Perry removed the rock, and the entire dungeon trembled.

“No! Don’t remove the conveniently labeled load-bearing stone!” Doofus Khan screamed. “Oh sure, of all the things I could’ve labeled, it had to be that one!”

“Let’s get out of here!” Isabella shouted. She tugged Phineas along, who didn’t even protest when she sharply yanked him out of the way of a falling boulder.

“Curse you, ancient warrior Perry the Platypus! Curse you, Princess Isabella and the Firesong Girls! Curse you, inaccurate representation of 1542 Mongolia! You know, I have a lot of things to curse so I’m definitely gonna be here a while!”

o-o-o-o-o

_Modern Day: An archaeological presentation on Ming Dynasty pottery in an unspecified building._

“And so, the Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness collapsed, signaling the defeat of Doofus Khan’s army. Our brave princess, the Ming equivalent to our Fireside Girls, the saviors of the Tri-Province Area, the wise platypus warrior, and the Redundant Scribe of Redundantness, were welcomed home to an enormous parade. Gretchen received her Charisma Patch and a bonus Persistence Patch, because unlike today, the Firesong Girls were not barbarians. Isabella became leader of the Firesong Girls, the boys spent the rest of their days building the Great Wall, Doofus Khan kept cursing people in the ruins of his fortress, Master Perry taught an entirely new generation of warriors, and the potato gremlins waged war against the Mongol army until a magical three-humped camel descended from the heavens and taught them the value of peace, love, and fortune cookies. Which lasted until the Mongol army discovered chili cheese french fries. And that concludes my presentation on these historical Ming vases.”

“Really, Dave? Potato gremlins?” one of the judges sighed, lowering her shades and shaking her head. “I’m afraid we can’t let you into the Archaeological Society of Archaeology with something so ludicrous.”

“Nobody ever believes me about the potato gremlins…”


	28. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s June 15, Vanessa’s birthday, so it feels right to post this! Unrelated note, but curse you washing machine for breaking (we're getting a new one at the end of the month thankfully).

The day of Vanessa’s birth wasn’t like his other backstories. Sure, backstories took place in the past. They were supposed to provide an explanation for the motive. Backstories were emotionally scarring and tragic, but ultimately simple to tell once he boiled it down to its basic components.

It took place in the past, but that was all. Nothing involving Vanessa qualified as a tragic backstory because those stories brought all the wrong emotions to the table while he spread evil across the Tri-State Area. But more importantly, it wasn’t so simple to talk about, not even to Perry the Platypus.

He remembered being on cloud nine when he held Vanessa for the first time. But nine wasn’t even the right number. More like the clouds were infinite or at the very least some astronomically high number because that was how deliriously happy he’d been.

She was wrapped in a pink blanket. She was tiny. She was perfect.

And she had Heinz’s eyes.

He remembered how Mother had looked at Roger when he was born. Heck, how she’d anticipated his birth with the enormous pile of pretty dresses. But he’d never understood how Mother could look at a tiny, wrinkly creature who only ate, slept, and pooped and accept him as a child.

~~Or how Mother could accept one baby but wouldn’t hold another for longer than she had to.~~

Well, now he had a baby of his own.

And wasn’t that a terrifying thought?

Vanessa may have escaped the signature beaky nose of the Doofenshmirtz clan, but there were many ways he could mess her up for life. There were no genetic issues, no weight issues, in fact the only issue was getting Vanessa to do what they wanted because even as a newborn she had so much willpower and he didn’t know if it would continue as she grew or if something would cause her to be submissive and lose her spirit.

He wouldn’t be the reason it happened though. He wouldn’t screw up. He would show her how loved she was, that she could do anything she set her mind to, that she was Vanessa Doofenshmirtz and nobody could tell her otherwise. Well, that’s what he believed at her birth.

There was an awful moment after the divorce where Heinz sat in his new penthouse, bathed in darkness and vastness and loneliness, and cried harder than he’d ever cried in his life because he failed.

It wasn’t the oh well, try again tomorrow failure he often experienced when an inator blew up.

He’d failed Vanessa. He’d already broken the promise he made at her birth, and she was barely _four_. He wouldn’t see her daily, like a good father should do. He should’ve been asking her what she did at Pre-K, playing with her, reading bedtime stories every night because that’s how good fathers are.

He was already turning Vanessa’s life into a tragic backstory, when that wasn’t his goal at all.

He wasn’t doing enough. He needed to try harder.

The following year, Vanessa’s party was pink and she was just expressing a taste for goth and punk outfits, and Heinz wondered if Vanessa was growing up too quickly, because preteens and not five year olds were the ones with vampire obsessions.

She probably just hated the petting zoo. To be fair, Lenny the Llama was on the temperamental side. Heinz had enough spit to fill a swimming pool to prove it.

And he kept trying. No petting zoo. Just ponies, because ponies were tame and easy to ride. No clowns, maybe a magician. Maybe he wouldn’t hire another magician after the banana crème incident at Vanessa’s ninth birthday, but just break out his own seventh grade magic kit and do it himself. He still remembered some tricks, even if he still couldn’t find Bobo the Rabbit.

Friends. Streamers. Balloons. Color. Cake. Gifts.

The essentials for any birthday party, though he’d never experienced any in his life. He really didn’t have the personal experience for a frame of reference. But it was fine. He just needed the right combination.

But this year had been different. This year, Perry the Platypus had helped him. Sure, Heinz had gotten his arm stuck in a firecracker and blown up, but the smile and hug Vanessa gave him the next day made the charred lab coat worth it.

Vanessa was his baby girl. His very strong, independent baby girl. And he was so proud of her. 


	29. Rulebook

1\. Don’t reveal or compromise your secret identity to your host family. Depending on the nature of the infraction, the host family’s memories will either be erased or you will be reassigned to another host family and nemesis.

2\. Watch your language. And we don’t just mean avoiding profanity in front of impressionable recruits. This mostly applies to animal idioms such as “stubborn as a mule”, because the agents will be offended.

_*This means you, Monogram._

3\. If the above rule is broken, sensitivity training may be needed. You don’t want to go through it. You will be in a class with Major Monogram, and it will NOT be pretty.

4\. For the humans: superior officer does NOT equal superior species.

5\. Don’t bring up the Academy in front of Major Monogram.

6\. Interspecies dating is allowed, but your work comes first. We will not be held responsible for romantic drama.

7\. In fact, please give us the romantic drama. It makes for entertaining office gossip.

8\. Planty the Potted Plant is an agent with amazing potential in the neverending battle against evil. Please refrain from eating him or using the bathroom in his pot.

9\. Paid intern is only a title. We will not actually pay you despite you sinking most of your life into keeping the agency running. No, we haven’t learned our lesson from the Great Intern Revolt of ’96 or rewritten our policies because of Carl’s brief stint in evil. It’s not happening.

10\. Stop calling OWCA evil just because we don’t pay our interns.

11\. We’re aware there’s only 26 letters in the English alphabet and hundreds of agents. We’re not changing the system even if it is confusing to have dozens of Agent P’s.

12\. Don’t make bathroom jokes out of Agent P’s name. It’s not professional.

13\. Stop asking the duck agents if they have any grapes. They don’t. And they know how to clobber you with a chair in seven painful ways.

14\. Turkey agents will not be sent out for fieldwork during the month of November unless it’s an emergency. Desk jobs are okay, though they may be skittish if they see an eating utensil.

15\. Dr. Doofenshmirtz is NOT allowed anywhere near Major Monogram’s car.

16\. If you bring Fireside Girl cupcakes, make sure there’s enough to share.

17\. Don’t make cat noises every time Major Monogram is in trouble with his wife. Which happens often. So don’t do it.

18\. We aren’t reliant on Agent P to save us during times of crisis! Our agents aren’t that incompetent!

19\. Lattes aren’t allowed on couches anymore.

20\. If a nonmember animal is harmed, make them agents to avoid a lawsuit.

21\. Robots are not allowed to be agents.

22\. Humans who are legally animals are allowed to be agents.

23\. The above does not apply to interns who claim they’re legally squirrels in order to get a paycheck.

24\. No additional agents are allowed to thwart any single evil scientist if said first agent assigned is still well and able to carry out his duties.

25\. OWCA insurance policies don’t apply to civilians.

26\. Even if you’re on vacation, you’re still required to call in for work.

27\. Don’t eat Slushy Burger in front of the bovines. Or any animal products derived from a species standing in front of you.

28\. Fighting around or staying committed to one evil scientist is your choice, though we reserve the right to temporarily reassign you as needed.

29\. Don’t steal from the ‘congrats for defecting to the good guy side’ gift baskets! The double fudge cookies are an incentive to get them to not be evil anymore!

30\. Dr. Feelbetter is not a licensed psychologist and should not be used for solving your relationship problems with your nemesis. Agent P and Dr. Doofenshmirtz’s emotional stunts should not be replicated. 

31\. We know money isn’t used efficiently. We can’t do a thing about Monogram commissioning that private jet for himself though. 

32\. Peter the Panda is not a heartbreaker. Please stop calling him that.

33\. I am the Model of a Modern Major General is banned due to the incident at the last karaoke party.

34\. Make your own theme song. Don’t rip off Agent P or Carl’s no matter how catchy they are.

35\. Above all else, fight evil for yourself, your loved ones, and the world.


	30. Triangle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to everyone who finds the front view of Phineas's head creepy.

There was something weird about Dinner Bell’s head. Sure, the simple triangular shape may’ve started an entire internet flame war over the triangle classification and exact angle measurements between Baljeet, Irving, and their respective nerd factions, but Buford didn’t want to be too involved in their geeky geometry pride.

Maybe he’d go rough up a rival or two if provided with proper monetary incentive, but his rates were higher than what most nerds could afford in this day and age.

What could he say? A van Stomm always bullied with old-school bully charm. The classic ways weren’t exactly cheap.

No, it was the front view of Phineas’s head that always sent a chill up Buford’s spine. Phineas looked fairly unassuming from the side or turned three-fourths in any direction, but that’s just what he wanted you to think before he unleashed the true eldritch abomination that was the front of his face.

The diamond-y, bug-eyed face was the second worst unimaginable horror in the entire Tri-State Area.

Well, nothing could ever top Suzy Johnson in terms of unimaginable horror.

Buford could only hope they never teamed up. Nobody would survive the onslaught of deceptively adorable little girls and bug eyes.

Then Phineas walked into the backyard, carrying a large box of various knickknacks that probably came straight out of the attic.

_And he was facing the front._

“PLEASE ACCEPT THIS HUMBLE OFFERING!” Buford screeched, snatching up Baljeet, who squawked indignantly at being forced away from his beloved graphing calculator.

“Don’t use me as a meat shield, Buford!” Baljeet protested. “We’ve been over this!”

“Irving and that one artsy kid who used to hang out with us at the beginning of summer ain’t here, nerd!” Buford said, threateningly waving Baljeet. He had to do all the work himself, cause Baljeet couldn’t intimidate his way out of a paper bag. “Stay back, corn chip! Or else!”

Phineas just grinned, which didn’t help, cause that only made the kid so much creepier.

Buford really needed to stop procrastinating on buying zucchini-scented candles, chalk, and holy water for a protective ward around his house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while since the last update, but my creative streak ran a bit dry for a bit. Anyways, I am so excited for CATU!


	31. Nonverbal

Phineas was a leader, talker, and a dreamer. He came up with the plan, brought the fun, and inspired everyone he touched.

Ferb stood in Phineas’s shadow, and while many who didn’t know them would consider it a point of contention, Ferb didn’t mind. It was true that Phineas was often the most obtuse person Ferb had ever known when it came to feelings and sarcasm, but he was also optimistic and kind to a fault.

His role was the Man of Action. The one who transformed dreams into reality. He had resources and would use them to the best of his ability. And the supplier of the occasional one-liner delivered in the charming, witty British way. Nobody ever knew when those were coming, and Ferb enjoyed keeping them on their toes.

Besides, there were advantages to not talking much.

Ferb tapped the bookshelf and blinked slowly.

Phineas stared. Perry shuffled across the carpet and broke the silence with a chatter. 

“That…was the most riveting social commentary on Horse in a Bookcase I’ve ever heard,” Phineas said once he recovered from the shock.

And it was just fun to blindside his brother every once in a while.


	32. Lemonade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Candace appreciation hours! I wanted to do a Candace and Vanessa conversation because of CATU.

Jeremy looked so cute in his Slushy Dawg uniform. Well, he looked cute in any outfit, but the Slushy Dawg hat just added an extra layer of adorableness. Candace snapped a photo on her phone while Jeremy took a customer’s order, ducking behind the wall against her table before he could look up.

“Total keeper,” Candace giggled, unable to stop the high-pitched squeal that made people stop and stare like they’d never seen a teenage girl in love before. “The sunlight bounces off his hair perfectly in this one.”

She raised her phone again as Jeremy bagged several hot dogs, all wrapped neatly in tin foil. No wonder every Slushy Dawg manager in Danville and Mt. Rushmore fought over him. He was the best guy for the job with that award-winning smile.

“Hey, Candace. What’s up?”

Candace shrieked, slapping her hand against her mouth and almost losing her grip on her precious phone. She whirled around, her knee banging painfully on the table rim. Luckily for her, Jeremy was too busy to notice. 

Vanessa was holding two medium-sized cups of lemonade, a purse and small wallet tucked in an awkward position under her arm. Despite that, Vanessa just radiated casualness.

Caught by the coolest and most mature girl she’d ever known. Candace mentally apologized to Stacy, wondering if she was breaking some BFF-practically sisters code for even thinking that way.

Candace leaned against the table, propping her head up with her elbow. “Yo, Vanessa. ‘Sup with you?”

She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth. Maybe that was too casual. 

“My dad’s scheme involves chicken and waffles, so I got out of there before he could make the entire place smell like poultry,” Vanessa said, thankfully not commenting on Candace’s failed attempt at casualness and making things more awkward. “Mind if I join you for a while? I’ve got time to kill and a spare cup of lemonade here.”

“Sure thing! I’m just waiting for Jeremy’s shift to end. Then we’re going out for dunch. It’s like brunch, but it’s a cross between lunch and dinner,” Candace said as Vanessa settled on the opposite side of the table. Vanessa set the cups on the table, sliding the spare lemonade and a wrapped straw to Candace. She tucked her wallet into the purse, setting them in the space between her and the wall. Even Vanessa’s purse was goth with purple highlights. Just enough to get the point across without being overly edgy.

“That’s nice,” Vanessa said.

Candace glanced at the rest of the packed food court. She prided herself on people-watching, but she didn’t see anyone who looked like they’d hang out in the same clique as Vanessa. “So why do you have two lemonades anyway? I mean, it’s a great drink but-“

“-you thought I was a black-coffee-just-like-my-soul kind of person?” Vanessa finished. There was a tiny mischievous smirk on the corner of her lips.

Candace laughed, maybe a little too loudly. She caught herself just in time. “HA! I mean…no way! I would’ve totally pegged you for the latte type! Cause lattes are cool! And trendy! And hip! And…I’m gonna stop talking now.”

To her surprise, Vanessa laughed. “Joke’s on you. I prefer cappuccinos.”

“That was my second guess.” Candace covered her lie with a long sip of lemonade.

_Please don’t call me out on not knowing the difference between lattes and cappuccinos. Please don’t call me out on not knowing the difference between lattes and cappuccinos…_

“Anyway, there’s a new lemonade kiosk and I was thirsty,” Vanessa said. “Buy One, Get One Free deal this week to celebrate the grand opening. Tried telling the cashier I was by myself, but he insisted on giving me the extra cup because he didn’t want the owner-slash-mascot to accuse him of stealing corporate secrets for the orange juice empire, whatever that means.”

“Owner-slash-mascot?” Candace echoed.

Vanessa pointed behind Candace. Shrieks erupted from several families as a large man wearing a hat decked out with lemons jumped onto their table, disregarding the half-eaten burgers and fries. Whatever lunch was left was quickly snatched away before the man trampled them underfoot.

“BOO-YAH LEMONADE IS IN BUSINESS, BABY!” he screeched, pumping his fists into the air and being oblivious to the crowd’s general annoyance. “GET ‘EM WHILE THEY’RE COLD AND FRESH! LEMONADE RULES, ORANGE JUICE DROOLS!”

_“Mall security team to food court! Code Yellow! The owner-slash-mascot of Boo-Yah Lemonade is being annoying again! I repeat, Code Yellow!”_

As a mall security team thundered up the escalator, the man leapt off the table and shoved people aside in his hurry to get away.

“I’M A PUBLIC NUISANCE FOR THE GLORY OF LEMONADE!” his voice faded away as he ran into the nearest department store. The crowd parted to let the mall security team through, then went back to their regular weekend at the mall schedules as if nothing had ever happened.

Vanessa swirled her lemonade with her straw. She was probably too used to craziness to be affected much. “So have you watched any of my DVDs yet? Have you gotten to _Le Coeur Noir De Douleur et de la Tristesse Douce_?”

“Is the goat head supposed to visually indicate the woman’s headstrong nature?” Candace asked. She wasn’t mentioning that she couldn’t pronounce the foreign film titles at all.

Vanessa shrugged. “I thought it represented her childhood on the farm before the loan shark took away the goats as payment for her father’s debt, but your guess is pretty good too.”

“Real art is so confusing,” Candace admitted.

“Yeah, but that’s why it’s so fun,” Vanessa said.

Then Irving passed by their table, holding several large posters with two _very_ familiar faces printed on them. Candace snatched a poster from the top of the stack, startling Irving into dropping the rest.

“Hey, what gives?” Irving grumbled, but Candace and Vanessa ignored his protests.

The poster featured her brothers, an elaborate outdoor battle arena as the bustworthy project of the day, and their backyard as the location. The three prerequisites to any bust.

Dunch would have to wait. It was busting time now. 

“Could you tell Jeremy I need to go bust my brothers? He’ll understand,” Candace asked. She tried to fold the poster for easy carrying, but it was too large for her purse and her skirt lacked pockets. Then she crushed her empty lemonade cup and dropped it into the garbage can. “I’ll come back when I’m done.”

“Alright. Nice hanging out with you.” Vanessa waved, and Candace almost tumbled down the escalator in her haste to return the gesture, keep the poster from being ripped, and call her mom at the same time.

But she managed to speed-dial her mom, cackling maniacally as she tore through the mall and weaved around shoppers, only managing to lose a third of the poster in the process.

“MOM! PHINEAS AND FERB ARE HOSTING A HOLOGRAPHIC BATTLE ROYALE BETWEEN ALL FOUR PLAYING CARD SUITS!”

o-o-o-o-o

Vanessa walked up to Slushy Dawg once the line of customers thinned. Jeremy wiped a spot on the counter, smiling brightly before she even got to the register.

She could see why Candace was so enamored with him. Jeremy was either a really good actor or just oddly calm when it came to retail. No wonder Candace felt comfortable enough to push back the time on short notice.

She never could’ve done that with Johnny, and she and Monty needed to coordinate timing on their dates to avoid parental outrage.

“Welcome to Slushy Dawg! May I take your order?” Jeremy asked.

Vanessa shook her head. Slushy Dawg would never get any better, but she kept that comment to herself. “I’m not ordering. Just here on Candace’s behalf. She’ll meet you for dunch once she’s finished busting her brothers.”

Jeremy chuckled. “That’s Candace for you.”

“She’s really running all the way to the suburbs?”

“Candace has a lot of endurance.”

“That’s really cool,” Vanessa said. 

“I know, right?” Jeremy beamed.

Candace was so lucky to have an understanding boyfriend. It was definitely a breath of fresh air from what she usually dealt with.


End file.
